


Road Maps

by starsandrockets



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Lucas x Max, Lumax, Max x Lucas, Mucas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-04-17 16:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 52,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandrockets/pseuds/starsandrockets
Summary: "And just like that, Lucas Sinclair knew he was hopelessly and unequivocally hers."A collection of Lucas Sinclair x Max Mayfield dabbles.





	1. Truly Alone

**Author's Note:**

> "Two souls didn't find each other by simple accident."  
> -Jorge Luis Borges

_JANUARY 1985_

Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield began as a middle school fling that no one truly expected to last. But they did. Despite all odds, they did.

…

The first time they ever hung out alone - _truly_ alone, without any other members of the party or any creepy back-room-of-the-arcade tactics - was just a few weeks after the snowball.

She had kissed him then, under the blue and silver streamers of the cheesy school dance, and though things had quickly returned to normal for them, Lucas could not help but remember the way his heart fluttered at her touch and his cheeks ached at the end of the night from the non-stop smiling.

"Hey, Max!" called Lucas in the hallway one Friday. The final bell had just rung and he had caught her just before she left through the school's side doors.

She turned at the shout of her name. "Hey, stalker," she greeted, but the word was no longer harsh in her mouth. Rather, it was light and happy and affectionate.

He caught up to her quickly as she waited for him by the exit. "I just was wondering," he started slowly, breathlessly, before his next sentence came all at once as if it were one long word. "Do-you-wanna-go-to-the-arcade-with-me?"

"Today?" she asked, and he nodded eagerly.

She wanted to say yes, but the moment her mouth opened to form the word, something - _someone_ \- poked the back of her mind.

Looking out the glass windows of the school doors, she saw the familiar blue Camaro parked outside. Even after she had stabbed him in the neck with a sedative and threatened his sex life with a nail-covered baseball bat, she was still terrified of her stepbrother. Even more so now than she had been before. Because she had given him motive. She had poked the beast and it was ready to bite back. There was no doubt in her mind that he would as soon as she gave him the opportunity.

Lucas wore a crestfallen expression as he followed her gaze. "That's okay, Max, maybe some other -"

"Meet me there at six?" she said suddenly, before she had even conjured an escape plan in her head from the home she called Hell. Before she allowed herself to change her mind, she turned back to him and smiled softly before exiting the building and running off toward Billy's car, leaving a heart-eyed Lucas behind.

He was beyond excited. He had been saving his quarters from shoveling the snow from Old Man Humphry's driveway for a month now in hopes that he would be able to beat one of Max's high scores just to watch her take back her top spot.

No one else in the party was going. Mike was at Holly's winter ballet recital, Will was having an mandatory family night, Dustin was off taking bad advice from Steve Harrington, and El was back in hiding. So it was just Lucas and Max. Max and Lucas. Together. Alone.

But it was not a date. Or was it?

Either way, he biked to meet her as fast as his legs would carry him even though he had left his house fifteen minutes too early. To his surprise, Max was already there, waiting outside for him. Her nose was pink from the cold and her expression was sullen, but she instinctively lit up when she saw Lucas and it made his heart leap.

"You're early," he said.

"So are you," she retorted. "Let's go inside, I'm freezing."

Watching her play was mesmerizing. Dig Dug was her favorite, because it was the one she was best at. Her hands moved at lightning speed and her eyes narrowed at the screen in concentration. She beat her own top score, then beat it again, but still cursed and kicked the machine when she inevitably lost.

"783,500 points?! That's mental..." Lucas exclaimed as she entered in her name: MADMAX.

"I'm trying to get to 800,000," she boasted before stepping aside to let Lucas take a shot.

"Come on, there's no way I'm ever gonna beat you," he told her.

"Maybe... but if you knock Dustin out of second place, he'll be totally pissed," she said with a sly smile.

He narrowed his gaze and felt his face spread into a grin. Instead of arguing with each other, they were scheming together, and for Lucas it just felt right. "I like the way you think, MadMax."

It took him four tries to get it, but eventually he did. "680,784," Lucas announced pridefully as he claimed second place, bumping Dustin down to third.

"Nice work, stalker!" Max congratulated, going in for a high-five. He brought this hand to meet hers in midair, but before he could drop it, she caught and held onto it. "Let's go check out Centipede," she said, turning and leading Lucas hand in hand through the arcade.

He was grateful that she was too busy watching where she was walking to look back and see the goofy grin that plastered itself to his face.

…

They had started holding hands a lot. Whether it was under the table at lunch or under the blanket they shared while watching movies in the Wheelers' basement, their hands always seemed to find each other whenever they could be subtle about it.

…

It had not been a date. Or had it?

The idea tugged at Max's mind for weeks before she broke and finally reached out for help. She called JJ, her best and only friend from California. She had known him since she was four and trusted the kid with her life.

Her mom and step dad were nowhere to be found and Billy had run off to go buy beer and cigarettes, giving Max just enough alone time to make such a dire phone call.

JJ picked up on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

"How do you know if it's a date?" asked Max, cutting to the chase.

"Let me guess," he started, and she could hear his smile over the phone. "Lucas?"

She rolled her eyes even though he was not there to see. "Yes, Lucas. Who else?"

"You're such a _girl_ sometimes, Max," JJ teased.

"Shut up," Max retorted, unable to think of a better comeback. She was embarrassed enough as it was. "And answer the question. How do I know if it was a date?"

"I don't know. Ask him?" he said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world, which it probably was. Max knew immediately that it was the exact advice she would give to anyone else in her situation, but in a way it made things even less helpful.

" _JJ,"_ she warned.

"Alright, alright. Sorry," he huffed. "Was it just the two of you?"

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"We went to the arcade… played games, ate snacks…"

"Did he pay?"

"Yes, but only -"

"But nothing. It was a date."

"But -"

" _But nothing,_ Max," JJ insisted. "And if you don't believe me then ask him yourself. Better yet, ask him out on another date directly. Show him how it's done."

"You know I can't do that," Max said softly, twirling the phone cord around her finger. God, maybe she really _was_ such a girl sometimes. She dropped the cord and shoved her hand into her pocket.

"Why not? You said you kissed him and he didn't projectile vomit over you, so I'd say you have a pretty good shot, Mayfield."

At that, Max laughed. And in that laughter, she realized Jamie was right. Why the hell not? She decided she would ask him on Monday for a real date, one she did not need to question the validity of.

But when Monday came, she chickened out. It took her until Wednesday to work up enough confidence, and once she finally had a plan in place, she reminded herself not to come off as intimidating. At that, she failed miserably.

Max approached Lucas at his locker in between sixth and seventh period.

"Hey, Lucas," she greeted, her tone coming of slightly aggressive in an attempt to mask her nerves. She kicked herself mentally.

Not wanting him to think she was mad at him, she quickly slipped fingers between his, something they had never done so blatantly or publicly before, and Max immediately knew it had probably only made the situation worse for both of them. She kicked herself mentally again.

"Uh… hey, Max," said Lucas. A smile flickered across his lips but his wide eyes told her that she had completely caught him off guard.

"What are you doing Saturday?" she asked quickly, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible.

"Saturday? I, uh, I-I'm not sure. The party's probably doing something if you wanna come. Why? What's up?" he asked skeptically.

She realized how tightly she was gripping his hand and decided to release it, grabbing onto each of her backpack straps instead. "I want you to take me out," she said, slightly too aggressively once more. "On a date," she added, almost forgetting her whole reason for asking - or maybe more like demanding - in the first place.

' _So smooth,'_ she thought to herself while grimacing internally.

When Lucas' mouth dropped open slightly as he processed her words, Max felt her heart begin sinking. "Unless… you don't want to."

"No! No," he assured her quickly. "I want to. I _definitely_ want to."

It was not until she relaxed under his words that Max realized how much tension she had been holding in the first place.

A smile tugged at the corner of Lucas' mouth as he closed his locker. "I'll let you know where to meet me," he said much more slowly, though his statement sounded like a question.

"Cool," Max said in a softened voice, holding back a grin of her own.

"Cool," Lucas agreed.

And then before she could embarrass herself any further, she walked away toward her next class.

…

Saturday came, and Lucas took her to Nice Slice, his favorite pizza place, on Main Street. He got there _extra_ early, but Max, once again, was already waiting outside.

"You're super early," he commented, opening the door for the freezing California girl.

"So are you."

They sat in a booth near the back for hours, eating pepperoni pizza and drinking Coca-Cola's as they talked and laughed and bantered. It felt easy and natural and right. After the week of alternate dimensions and near death experiences they had survived together, they were both a bit surprised at just how normal their conversations could be.

Lucas told her tales of Dustin and Mike and Will as kids, and Max told him stories of summers with her dad on the beach. They fought over whether or not pineapple was a good pizza topping and if there are people who _actually_ use the word 'tubular'. Lucas told her about some of the ways Erica likes to mess with him, and Max told him about the rare occasions that she will hear Billy singing Cyndi Lauper in the shower when he thinks no one else is home.

At that, Lucas laughed so hard that soda came out of his nose, causing Max to erupt into her own fit of giggles.

"Okay now _that_ was _totally tubular_ ," she told him in between chuckles.

Lucas thought he should feel embarrassed, but for whatever reason he did not. Max was not laughing _at_ him, she was laughing _with_ him, and Lucas decided then that it was the best sound he had ever heard.

…

"Can I walk you home?" Lucas asked after he and Max had been told the pizza place would be closing in fifteen minutes. January left Hawkins road's icy - too icy for Max to skate - and since she did not live far, she had decided to walk to Nice Slice.

Max blinked at him a few times and Lucas prepared to have his offer turned down because of her evil step brother. "You can walk me to the end of my street," she suggested instead.

Lucas' stomach flipped at the idea of getting to spend more time with Max, though it was a feeling he was beginning to get used to. "Cool."

"Cool," she agreed, sliding out of the booth.

When they got outside, it was snowing. Immediately, Max shivered and crossed her arms over her chest as a defense against the cold, but Lucas did not miss the way her eyes danced around, watching the gentle snow fall with a child-like admiration.

"You know, before this year I'd never seen snow before," Max admitted.

Lucas nodded to himself from his spot crouched on the ground, already packing together the perfect snowball, though she did not seem to notice. "So you've never had a snowball fight?" he asked, standing up and backing away from the redhead to find the perfect throwing distance.

Her head snapped toward him, eyes wild with betrayment. "You wouldn't."

He would. And he did. Lucas threw the snowball with a well-practiced angle and trajectory. She held her hands up in defense and squealed when it exploded against her shoulder.

Immediately, she crouched down and attempted to form one herself, to no avail. It fell apart in her hands. She tried again. "I thought this was supposed to be easy."

"It _is_ easy."

"Then tell me how to do it!"

"Why should I share my battle tactics with the enemy?"

The white flakes clung to the copper waves that veiled her face, but Lucas did not need to see her eyes to know that she was rolling them at him. "Would you stop being a complete loser for, like, five seconds and come help me?"

Lucas complied, bending down next to her and picking up snow from the ground. "You have to pack it as tight as you can… like this," he demonstrated, creating a second snowball before smashing it against her knee and helping Max with her own.

"Like that?" she asked.

"Yeah! Yeah, but you want to twist it almost... Like that... Jesus, Max, your hands are _freezing_."

They stood together and Max smashed her first ever snowball on Lucas' shoulder with a satisfied grin before he took her hands in both of his own and started blowing warm breaths onto them.

"Californians," he sighed as he began rubbing her fingers between his palms, warming her with heat from friction and his own body temperature. "They're all cold blooded."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "How many other Californians have you met?"

"I don't need to have met them, it's just scientific fact."

She rolled her eyes but moved to lace her fingers through his, stuffing her other hand in her coat pocket. She began pulling him in the direction of the street he promised to walk her to the end of. "Come on, stalker."

They walked together, hand in hand, as a comfortable silence washed over them. He looked to her and she looked to him, smiling softly before turning her face toward the ground.

And just like that, Lucas Sinclair knew that he hopelessly and unequivocally hers.

 


	2. Just Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is a season for wildness and a season for settledness and this is neither. This is a season about becoming."  
> -Shauna Niequist

_MARCH 1984_

"Do you think Cassie Clemens would be into me? I know she's, like, so totally out of my league but we got paired for a project today and I think, I dunno, that maybe she might be. Like, she laughed at my jokes, Max. _Actually_ laughed at them, so I thought maybe I might have a shot. I dunno... You're a girl. Right?"

Even though he could not see her face from her position riding ahead of him, Max could not help but roll her eyes at her friend. "Last time I checked, yeah."

"Then what should I do?" he asked, catching up to her so they could skateboard down the street side by side.

"I dunno, JJ. Girls like Cassie Clemens don't talk to people like us," Max reminded him. She looked to her friend as he frowned. "What are you good at? Try to impress her, maybe."

"I'm good at video games, I guess. Not as good as you," JJ shrugged. A beat passed before his eyes lit up at the spark of an idea. "I could show her some tricks."

JJ removed his back foot from his board, pushing it against the pavement a few times to pick up speed. Max did the same in order to keep up. He cruised for a moment before shifting his weight for to the back of the board and flicking the toe of his shoe off of the front. He had executed the perfect kickflip, but somehow botched the landing, sending him stumbling down the street and chasing after his board.

Max laughed as JJ took a running start, dropping his board on the pavement and hopping back up onto it. "Yeah. Hilarious," he said dryly. "Like you could do any better, Mayfield."

She could. So she did. She ollied and flicked the toe of her sneaker, suspending herself in midair while the board spun under her. Afterwards, she landed the kickflip perfectly and continued to skate alongside her friend.

JJ huffed, running a hand through his dark hair, and Max giggled again smugly. "Fine, Maxie, you impress guys with your skills and I'll come up with a plan B for me."

"I don't think I'm impressing anyone with anything."

JJ shook his head at her. "You will."

"I doubt it," Max scoffed.

"There's someone for everyone."

"And you think we're gonna find that someone in middle school?"

JJ shrugged and looked to her, eyes squinting against the early spring sun. "It's worth a shot."

…

_AUGUST 1985_

It was one of the hottest days of the year, and as they spent the afternoon lounging around in the hammock of his back yard, Lucas could not help but admire the way Max's hair curled up loosely in the summer humidity. When she sat up to sweep the waves off of her neck and into a ponytail, he wondered why she never wore it like that more often. She almost looked older with it up, and when it was out of the way it was easy to notice that her freckles were more prominent than ever.

She returned her hand to the sweaty palm of his as she lay back down beside him. "I wish we could go swimming," she said. "In the ocean. Not, like, a pool or a lake or something."

"What's it like?" Lucas asked curiously. When she turned her head to study him, her eyes seemed as light blue as ever against her sun kissed skin. "I've never seen it."

Max went into detail then, describing as best as she could what it feels like to be moved by the waves and have sand stuck between your toes and to watch boats disappear behind the horizon. All the while, Lucas studied the gleam in her eye and the curve of the corner of her lip as she spoke fondly of high tides and vast waters.

Lucas knew then that he would bring her back to California someday. She scoffed when he told her so.

"I'm serious," he said.

"So am I," she tried to argue. "We're fourteen, Lucas."

"Not forever… And I never said today or tomorrow or even next week. I said _someday._ "

She rolled her eyes at him but a slow smile spread across her face. "Fine," she said. " _Someday_ we will go to California, maybe."

"And we'll swim in the ocean?" he asked, raising one brow.

"We will swim in the ocean," she promised, and Lucas could not help but look forward to it.

…

_OCTOBER 1986_

One fall night, Lucas and Max found themselves sitting on a rock by Sattler's Quarry, looking up at the stars and admiring the way the moon sat full in the sky. It's light illuminated Lucas' face, making his skin glow and his eyes gleam and his smile stand out bright.

The night was crisp and clear and cool, but Max was cocooned by the warmth of Lucas' wool-lined jacket.

They sat and Lucas pointed out different lights in the sky, spewing facts about constellations and asteroids and the solar system.

Frequently, he would look back to make sure she was still listening. She always was.

At one point or another, his knowledge came to a lull and he sat in silence and studied the sky as intently as she studied him. She marveled at the way the dim light outlined his profile and how his dark eyes danced as he searched through the night, his expression set in concentration. He was looking to the sky for inspiration; for something else to tell Max about.

"You're such a nerd," she told him.

He looked back to her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "At least I don't glow in the dark," he joked, poking the fair skin of her her cheek.

She swatted his hand away. "I just mean that I don't know how you can remember all that stuff."

Lucas shrugged. "I dunno, either… I guess I just think it's cool."

"Yeah, that totally doesn't make you a nerd," she deadpanned as a smirk grew over her lips.

"I never said I wasn't," he defended.

"It just makes you super smart," she continued. Then, in her best impression she added, "And, like, totally tubular."

Lucas could not help but laugh as he threw an arm around her and pulled her closer.

…

_JANUARY 1987_

Lucas was the first of the party to turn sixteen, which also meant he was the first to get his license. To celebrate, he surprised Max by taking her out for a drive in his mom's Impala before he had even gotten the chance to share the good news with the rest of their friends.

The zoomer teased him the whole time about how slow he was going as he drove around aimlessly, though they both knew she much preferred his driving to Billy's.

Eventually, he pulled into a spot by the lake where they listened to the radio as they talked and made out and laughed and made out and talked some more. At least until Max noticed the sun was beginning to set over the frozen lake, turning the sky a blend of pastels.

"Woah," Max said, entirely mesmerized.

She jumped out of the car and Lucas followed behind. Together, leaning against the hood, they watched the sky turn hues of pinks and yellows and oranges. Max's nose turned red against the cold while the light of the sun as it dipped behind the trees set her hair on fire.

Lucas wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close as they sat together in comforting silence.

After a minute, she checked the time on his watch. "We should probably go."

But neither one of them moved. Not until dusk hit and Max began shivering. It was then that they hopped back in the car and blasted the heat while Lucas rubbed warmth back into Max's fingers between his own palms.

"We don't have to tell the rest of them," suggested Max, referring to the party and the fact that Lucas got his license. "We can keep it a secret and then they won't ask you for rides or anything and we can do this, like, every day."

Lucas knew she was only half kidding.

"I wish," he told her, only half kidding, too. "But if I don't tell them, they'll find out somehow. Besides, this isn't even my car. It's my moms." He rolled his eyes and began mocking Max while simultaneously pulling her across the bench of a front seat. "And I need to get a job so I can start saving for my own car and college and a house and retirement and my own funeral and blah blah blah..."

"So what if I worry about the future? You act like you have your whole life figured out. I'm just smart enough to admit that I don't."

Lucas shrugged. "I don't, either. Just the important part," he told her, placing a kiss on her nose before her lips.

"Okay, that was _insanely_ cheesy," she teased when he pulled away.

"But it's true," he told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her.

And he was right. Sure, they were young, but it was impossible for them to picture a life where they did not have each other.

…

_MAY 1987_

The rain rolled in with spring as it so often did in Hawkins, Indiana. It was the days when it poured down the hardest that Lucas and Max were perfectly content to just be.

They snuggled close in Lucas' bed, resting their bones and finding comfort in each other's presence as they listened to muffled patter of rain on the windows.

"Your hands are so much bigger than mine," she whispered to him as she lined up their palms and noted the way her fingertips just barely reached his second knuckles. "Like, they're actually gigantic."

"Maybe yours are just abnormally small," he challenged, moving to slip his fingers between hers.

"Yeah, we'll go with that," Max laughed softly as she watched Lucas bring the back of her hand to his lips.

She buried her face where she fit nicely against his chest as he placed kisses on each of her knuckles. "You're so warm," she sighed contently.

Lucas could not help but smile to himself. Moments like this were one of the things he loved most about Max Mayfield. She showed him sides of her that no one got to see. Otherwise, he never would have guessed that someone so tough and snarky liked cuddles and soft kisses and warm blankets. That someone who seemed to not to care about anything got worked up about the future and held a special place in her heart for dogs. That someone who lived in a home built on toxic relationships could love and be loved so deeply.

And it was not just her. She brought out parts of Lucas that he had never known existed, but at the same time he felt entirely himself with her. He was never quite sure how or why. All he knew was that he liked who he was when Max was around, and he hoped she felt the same, too.

As he began nodding off, he realized that this was his happy place. That was until the sound of tinny voices coming through the radio penetrated the moment's blissful bubble. _"Guys, it's Dustin. Does anyone copy? Over."_

"Ugh," Lucas groaned.

"I can't believe you still use those things," mumbled Max, her words muffled against his shirt.

 _"_ _Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?"_ asked Dustin through the walkie talkie.

"They were the coolest things when we were, like, twelve, but now they're just kind of…"

 _"_ _Mike copies. Over."_

"Annoying?" Max suggested.

"Annoying." Lucas finished at the same time.

 _"_ _Will copies. El's here, too. Over."_

With a long sigh, Lucas kissed the top of Max's head before untangling himself from her and rolling out of bed.

 _"_ _Lucas, are you there? Over."_

"I was comfy," Max complained as Lucas left toward the Supercomm on his desk.

 _"_ _I guess we can tell him later, but you'll never believe what I found. I was searching through old -"_

Lucas interrupted Dustin's voice by switching the radio off.

"They won't be pissed at you?" Max asked, now sitting up in bed.

"He said he'll tell me later," Lucas shrugged it off as he made his way back over to her. "Besides, we're busy."

"Busy doing nothing?" she asked, smiling Lucas' favorite smile as he climbed back into bed, pulling her down next to him.

"Exactly."

He kissed her a few times before burying his face where he fit nicely in the curve between her neck and shoulder.

"You're warm, too," he murmured into her skin, perfectly content to just be once again.


	3. For MadMax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does."  
> -The Smiths

_FEBRUARY 1985_

Valentine's Day was fast approaching, and after falling completely head over heels for this girl on their first date just a few weeks ago, Lucas knew he had to get Max _something_. But what do you get the tomboy who thinks of the holiday as just another overrated excuse for all of the preppy girls to be showered with gifts and love and attention? Who hates flowers and teddy bears and anything pink?

…

Everything was so _pink_ when Max arrived at school on February 14th. It was the color of everyone's shirts and the streamers on their lockers and the heart-shaped boxes of candy in their arms. It made Max feel like she was going to be sick.

Between second and third period, Max was exchanging some books from her backpack for ones in her locker. The break between classes was drawing to an end and the hallway was mostly clear of students by the time she was approached.

"Hi, Max," greeted Lucas, just as she was getting ready to go to her next class.

"Hey, stalker," she said, closing her locker door and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "What's up?"

"I got you something," he said quickly. He seemed just as nervous as Max felt the day she demanded a date with him. "For Valentine's Day."

Max narrowed her gaze at him, but before she could say anything Lucas reached into his pocket and pulled out a single cassette in a clear plastic case. A mixtape, she realized. With ' _for MadMax_ ' written neatly across the label in black marker. He had made her a mixtape. She was speechless. All she could do was stand and gawk.

"Will helped me make it," he told her, rambling the way he sometimes did when he got nervous. "My dad said I should get you flowers or something but I knew you wouldn't like them and you'd say something about them dying in a few days, so Will said I should make you something, but the only thing I could think of was a mixtape, even though I don't know what kind of music you like so, I dunno, maybe you'll hate this as just much as you'd hate the flowers but I wanted to get you something and I -"

"Lucas," she finally cut him off, finding her voice as the guilt settled in. "I didn't get you anything."

"That's okay," he said with a shrug. "I didn't expect you to."

As she looked back down at the mixtape he held out between them, she could not help but picture Lucas spending hours making it for her. "This is, like, the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she admitted. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized how true it was.

"So take it," he said, extending the tape in his hand further toward her.

So she finally did, holding the tape with two hands as if it were something precious. As if it would implode entirely if she became even the slightest bit reckless with it.

"Thanks," she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. His face spread into a smile and her chest fluttered with a familiar feeling. A strong urge to kiss him, she realized.

When the bell rang for third period they were the only two left in the hallway. "I should go," she said, and Lucas nodded in agreement, though neither made any move to leave. "See you at lunch?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, and his grin grew wide and Max's bubbly feeling grew stronger.

So without thinking, she leaned in and kissed him - a soft and fleeting thank you - before walking off toward her next class.

Max did not let herself look back over her shoulder, no matter how badly she wanted to.

…

Lucas was awestruck. Max had kissed him. Again.

Max. Kissed. Him. _Again_.

And the second time was even better than the first.

The ghost of her lips pressed against his lingered through the day, tugging the corners of his mouth into a seemingly permanent smile. As he walked to his next class on cloud nine, Lucas made a metal note to thank Will Byers and to save his money for more blank cassettes.

…

Her mom and stepdad went on a date that night, and her stepbrother went on several. So - for once - Max had the house to herself.

Billy's boombox was out in the living room by his weights, but Max never dared to touch his things. Instead, she dug through boxes in the garage until she found her mom's old radio with a built in tape-deck and prayed it still worked.

By a stroke of luck, it did. Setting it on the dresser in her room, she put Lucas' tape in and listened the whole way through.

She lay on her bed backwards - with her head by the footboard and her feet on her pillow - and thought of Lucas thinking of her. Of Lucas worrying about what songs she may or may not not like. Of Lucas asking his dad for advice. Of Lucas writing the words ' _for MadMax_ '. It was not a gift he just went out to the store and bought. It was something he thought through, planned, and executed. For her. God, he could be such a dork. And God, she could be such a _girl_.

When the music eventually stopped, Max got up, rewound the tape, and started it over again.

…

The next day at school, neither one of them said anything about the tape. Lucas assumed that she simply had not had the chance to listen to it yet. That was until study hall came.

It was one of their last classes of the day and they had it together, along with Will. However, Mrs. Sousa demanded absolute silence in her classroom, so all they could do was sit together at a table in the back and do their homework and exchange glances. Maybe one of these days they would learn sign language just to spite her.

The day after Valentine's Day for Mrs. Sousa's study hall was no different. Lucas walked in and made his way to the back of the room, greeting Will and Max with a smile as he silently slipped into the seat beside his crush. He pulled out some books from his backpack and got to work on his history assignment. Just like any other day.

Because it _was_ just like any other day. Until Max's hand found his under the table. But instead of allowing their fingers to intertwine, she flipped it palm-up in her lap just before he felt the scratch of a pen on his skin.

Lucas looked across the table to see Will fully engrossed in one of his sketches, not paying any attention to Lucas or Max or the rest of the classroom.

The pen pulled away just before her touch did. He peeked at his palm to see she had written the words ' _how soon is now?_ ' across it in small print and black ink. He looked over to her, but she did not give him a second glance, focusing instead on jotting notes down on a piece of loose leaf.

But now he knew she had listened. And she had liked The Smiths.

Lucas did not even attempt to hide the elated grin that sprouted across his face. He tried to focus back on his history assignment, but he found it impossible. His mind could not escape the thought of Max sitting and listening and thinking of him.

A folded up piece of paper was soon pressed into his palm. The same one she had just written on. He eyed Mrs. Sousa to make sure her attention was elsewhere as he unfolded the note that had been handed to him.

 _thank you,_ Max had written.

 _You listened?_ Lucas scribbled back.

She read over his shoulder as he wrote, but used her hair as a shield to cover the page as she jotted down her quick response.

_twice_

Lucas' heart soared in his chest.

He looked to her, beaming. ' _Tubular,'_ he mouthed.

She grinned back so wide that her dimples sunk back into her cheeks. She tried to hide it by turning her attention to her homework, but Lucas could not help but notice that her smile stayed plastered to her face, even as she read from her textbook.

…

"Hey, heart eyes!" Dustin called, waving a hand in front of Lucas' face and shaking him from his daze.

"Huh?" he asked.

That day after school Dustin, Will, Lucas, and Mike had all gathered together in the Wheeler's basement to brainstorm ideas for this year's science fair project. However, Lucas' mind was elsewhere, making it difficult for him to focus on the task at hand.

"Thinking about your girlfriend?" Dustin teased.

Lucas rolled his eyes, a behavior he did not even realize he had picked up from Max. "She's not my girlfriend," he huffed. Which was true, but she was definitely rubbing off on him.

"So you admit that you were thinking about her?"

"I never said that!"

"Did she like the mixtape?" Will cut in before the two boys could break out into an argument.

Lucas looked to his palm. The words she had written for him had begun to fade after his bike ride to Mike's, but the sentiment was still there. _how soon is now?_

Lucas nodded to his friend. "I think so. She said she listened twice."

"Mixtape?" asked Mike. "What mixtape?"

"I helped Lucas make Max a mixtape for Valentine's Day," Will replied simply. While Mike sat on the thought for a moment - most likely storing the idea in the back of his mind for El someday - Will turned back to Lucas. "Did she like The Clash?"

Lucas shrugged, then thought of the meaning behind the words she had chosen for his palm. "She liked The Smiths, I think."

Will looked pleased with this answer, but Dustin was still lost. "Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait. _You_ got _Max Mayfield_ a _Valentine's Day_ present?" the curly haired boy asked slowly.

Lucas nodded.

"And she _liked_ it?"

"She _is_ a girl, you know, Dustin," Lucas defended, rolling his eyes again.

"Yeah, I know… I just thought she hated Valentine's Day or something."

"Yeah, well, she likes music," muttered Lucas as he sank back in his seat.

"Everyone likes music," Will added.

Lucas nodded in agreement. The whole party allowed a beat to pass before anyone spoke again.

"Have you kissed her yet?" Mike asked.

"I think she'd actually bite his head off first," joked Dustin.

And Lucas smiled at that, not because it was funny, but because of how untrue it was. He had told his friends about the date, but not about their two kisses yet. Firstly because they were a bunch nerdy guys who were too busy with video games and AV club for this kind of thing to come up often in serious conversation. Secondly, knowing how Dustin had felt about her, Lucas did not want to hurt his friend's feelings. Thirdly, he had not kissed Max. Not at all. _She_ had kissed _him_ , but so quickly that he had not had the time to kiss her back. Not to mention that, fourthly, he would never hear the end of it.

So he decided he would wait to tell his friends, much like Mike had waited nearly six months to tell them that he had kissed El the night she disappeared, except not nearly as prolonged. He would just wait until _he_ was the one to kiss _her_ first. And, God, did he want to kiss her.

And he would, promising himself that it would be soon.


	4. The Sinclairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was the finest arranged stardust I had ever stumbled across."  
> -Atticus

_MAY 1985_

"So for the science project I was thinking maybe you could come by my house after school and we could start the poster board," Lucas suggested to Max at lunch.

"Okay," she agreed with a small smile before the party began talking about how Lucas and Max had lucked out when Mr. Clarke had drawn names from a hat to assign partners for their final project.

Mike had been assigned to work with Scotty Peterson, who was more than happy to sit back and let Mike do the work, while Mike was more than happy to do all the work so Scotty could not mess it up. Will had been assigned Jennifer Hayes, who was one of the most popular girls in eighth grade but, for some reason, had a not-so-secret crush on the Zombie Boy. Dustin was put with Leslie Moore, a preppy know-it-all who fought every word out of his mouth.

Then there was Lucas and Max, who by some stroke of fate or destiny or sheer blind luck were paired with each other.

And now she was going to his house after school. A place she had miraculously dodged for the past six months of knowing Lucas.

Though it did not dawn on her immediately, the thought weighed on Max heavily through the rest of the day. She knew Billy did not approve of Lucas, and it would not take a brain surgeon to figure out that her stepdad would probably share the same opinions. So was it so wrong of her to worry that Lucas' family might hate her, too? It was a likely possibility, especially considering the fact that Max did not see herself as the nicest person.

Lucas spoke highly of his father and fondly of his mother, and could go on and on about how annoying his little sister was (even if it was obvious that he was secretly caring and protective of her). On paper they seemed like the perfect, all-American family, and Max knew she could never fit in. But she could not put off trying forever.

The anticipation of it gnawed at her nerves all day, but that was nothing compared to when Lucas and Max finally arrived at the Sinclair home after school.

He had pointed out where he lived in the past, just a few properties down from the Wheeler's. She had previously seen the large house with blue siding and white shutters. The big front yard and the half circular driveway and the manicured shrubs. She had known it was his, but now that she was about to go inside the reality of it all finally hit her.

Lucas _actually lived_ here. For as long as he could remember. Max felt her stomach take a nosedive.

"You okay?" he asked, as they approached the front door. She cursed the fact that he could read her so well.

"Yeah," she assured him, working her face into an expression that was unconvincingly calm.

He smiled reassuringly and reached out to squeeze her hand once before releasing it to put his key into the lock. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter.

When Max stepped inside she was greeted by a home so picturesque that it looked straight out of a magazine. It was all so overwhelmingly large and quiet and clean. The only thing she found comfort in was the fact that the entire home smelt like Lucas mixed with freshly baked brownies.

"Erica?" a woman's voice called from a different room. Mrs. Sinclair, Max assumed.

"No, it's me," Lucas called back, closing the front door behind him.

"Oh," the woman said as Max heard footsteps approaching the front hall. "I wasn't expecting you home so - Oh, hello!"

The woman stopped in her tracks when she saw Max. Her face bore no resemblance to her son, yet she had the same warmth in her deep brown eyes. She wore an olive green sundress that was simple yet lovely, and for the first time in her life, Max - in her faded jeans, yellow striped shirt, and beat up pair of green Vans - felt like she had arrived underdressed to do homework.

Lucas' mother grinned at the girl who stood next to her son, not at all noticing the outfit.

"Hi," Max replied, trying her best to keep her nerves out of her voice.

"This is Max," Lucas said, gesturing toward the redhead. "Max, this is my mom."

Mrs. Sinclair was absolutely beaming. "It's so great to finally meet you, Max. Lucas has told us a lot about you."

Max felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she wondered what exactly he had told his family. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Lucas rub the back of his neck as if he were embarrassed by his mother's choice of words and she felt her face flush even further.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Sinclair," Max managed to say politely, holding out her hand.

"Please," said Lucas' mother, meeting Max's handshake. "Call me Tara."

Lucas made an attempt to cut the formalities short. "Okay. Well, we have a super important science project that we need to work on, so we'll be in my room."

He took Max's hand then and tried to make a beeline for the staircase, but was stopped even before his foot reached the first step.

"Before you two disappear," Mrs. Sinclair - Tara - started. "Will you be staying with us for dinner, Max?"

Put so suddenly on the spot, Max was not sure what to say. She looked between the faces of Lucas and his mother a few times before some part of her brain sent words out through her mouth. She was just glad it was the polite part. "Thank you, but I wouldn't want to be a bother…"

"No bother at all! We'd love to have you," the woman assured with a grin.

Looking to Lucas once again, Max was met with another reassuring smile. "Uh, sure. That'd be great."

"Wonderful. I'll call you two down when it's time," Tara said, visibly pleased by Max's response.

Max, however, was just trying to stop her hands from shaking. The thought of dinner with Lucas' family made her stomach churn. Especially since her own family did not exactly have sit-down meals together unless it was a special occasion. In the Hargrove house, it was every man for themselves.

"Okay, we'll be in my room," Lucas repeated, beginning to lead Max again.

Once they were in the upstairs hallway, Max felt like she could finally breathe again. The worst of it was over with. At least for now.

She continued to grip tightly onto his hand as he lead her down a short hallway to the room on the end. When he pushed open the door and lead Max inside, she felt herself genuinely smile for the first time since lunch.

His bedroom was so quintessentially _Lucas_. From the flag above his bed, to the pattern of his quilt, to the clutter that had been strewn about. Just the sight of it all radiated the same warmth he did.

"Shit," he murmured to himself as rushed to pick up the few random articles of clothing that had been tossed on the floor in the midst of a morning rush.

After setting her backpack down in his desk chair, she could not help but admire the room around her, letting her eyes wander until she caught sight of something familiar on top of his desk. "You kept these?" she asked him, picking up the notes they had passed back and forth in study hall just yesterday.

"Yeah," he said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "I, uh… I keep all of them."

She looked to him quizzically and he crossed the room in a few short strides. Hesitantly, he reached over to his desk and pulled open the small top drawer. It was filled with the folded-up notes they had passed - what looked like every single one since they had started in February - along with things like tickets to movies they had seen together, the birthday card she had gotten him, a couple of bottle caps, his ticket to the snowball, a receipt to Nice Slice, and more.

She studied the contents but did not dare to touch them. After a minute she looked up at him through her lashes. "Are you making a shrine for me, stalker?"

"You know me," he joked, closing the drawer and reaching behind Max for the binder on his desk that housed everything they had gathered for their project so far. "So for the poster board I was thinking we could cut planets out of, like, construction paper or something…"

She smiled to herself as they got to work then, sprawling supplies over Lucas' floor and mapping out the plans for their presentation. They worked well together, and Max was surprised at how easily they stuck to the task at hand without getting sidetracked. They managed to get the bulk of the work done in a couple of short hours, and were close to finishing up when they were interrupted.

"Wow," said a young voice behind them. Max turned to discover Lucas' little sister, who looked like a miniature version his mom, leaning against the doorframe. "When mom said you brought a girl home I thought it was a joke."

Lucas did not bother giving her a second glance, continuing his work. "What do you want, Erica?"

"Nothin' to do with you," Erica snapped back before turning to Max with an innocent grin. "I'm Erica."

"I'm Max," she replied with a smile.

"Lucas talks about you a lot," Erica began.

"Erica _-"_ Lucas muttered.

"He said you're really cool and that you're from California and you can skateboard," she continued, ignoring her brothers lame protest.

Max snuck a glance to Lucas but he would not meet her eyes, either. "Yeah," she confirmed for Erica.

"Then why do you hang out with a buncha nerds?"

Max could not help but laugh at that, but when she looked to Lucas he was not so amused. Instead, he was giving his sister a death glare. " _Erica_."

"What?" she asked her brother, flashing him a wide-eyed and innocent look. "It's a good question."

"No, it's not," Lucas argued.

"Uh-huh," said Erica.

"Nuh-uh. Now get out, we're doing homework."

Erica ignored the order, instead refocusing on Max. "I'm just saying, if I were you, I'd reconsider."

"Great, thanks for the advice," said Lucas retorted dryly. "You can leave now."

"Dinner's ready," Erica said before turning on her heel and bouncing back down the hall, seemingly pleased to have the last word.

Max turned to Lucas, grinning from the recent interaction, but he just huffed in annoyance.

"I love her," she decided.

Lucas scoffed as he helped Max up off of the floor. "You can take her. She's probably the most annoying person I've ever met."

"She can't be _that_ bad."

"Trust me," Lucas said, leading the way out of his room. "She is."

But Max could not help but think of how lucky Erica was to have a brother like Lucas instead of a brother like Billy.

She followed him through the beautiful home and to the kitchen, where everything was brightly colored and matching. Tara was putting the food into bowls for serving and Erica was taking those bowls to the table, which Mr. Sinclair was setting.

The man who resembled Lucas looked up as his son approached with Max in tow. "You must be Max," Mr. Sinclair smiled brightly. "I'm Arnell. Lucas' father."

"It's nice to meet you," Max said with a polite smile.

"Likewise. Please, take a seat," he offered, and so they did.

Lucas and Max sat on one side of the table, Erica on the other and his parents at each end.

This time around, Max did not even notice her nerves until Lucas moved his hand to her knee to stop her leg from rapidly bouncing up and down. He left it there comfortingly.

"So," Mr. Sinclair began as dinner did. "What's this project you two are working on?"

"It's for Mr. Clarke's class. We have to do a presentation on something we learned this year," Lucas explained.

"Let me guess," said Mrs. Sinclair, raising a brow at her son. "You chose space?"

"The solar system," he corrected.

Erica scoffed. "Nerd."

" _Erica_ ," their mother warned.

"It's just a fact," the young girl defended.

Mr. Sinclair, an English professor at the local college, went into a story about a research paper one of his students had recently written about the moon, and the interesting facts the young writer had presented.

The longer she was with them, the more Max realized that she had nothing to be worried about. The Sinclairs were warm and friendly and nothing like her own family. She wondered if they knew how to hate, which seemed to be all the Hargrove clan ever did.

Besides, how bad could the people who made someone as wonderful as Lucas really be?

After supper they finished their project. Before Max left for her own home, Mrs. Sinclair hugged her and told her to stop by anytime, letting her know that she and her husband were there if Max ever needed anything.

At the time, Max brushed off the polite remark, assuming Lucas had told her something about Billy or Neil that Mrs. Sinclair sympathized with. But a few years later, Max would find out just how much she truly meant her words.


	5. Old Cherry & Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Keep the ones that heard you when you never said a word."  
> -Janet Gwen

_MARCH 1985_

The blue Camaro screeched to a halt just outside of the arcade. Lucas watched from the window as Billy Hargrove grabbed Max's wrist just before she snatched it away and made her quick escape, slamming the door shut and flipping off her stepbrother's quickly retreating vehicle.

Once Billy was safely out of the way, Lucas moved to meet her outside.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked her as she approached the doors.

"I'm fine," she replied flatly, keeping her head down to avoid eye contact.

"What happened to your board?" he asked. It was March now, the snow had mostly melted and spring was approaching and Max had spoken all winter about how she could not wait to skateboard from place to place again.

She muttered a short and incoherent story involving Billy in response as she tried to move past him and into the arcade.

"Hey," he tried in a much softer tone, following her in and taking her hand gently in his. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She looked down to where their hands were joined as the door shut behind them. Then, finally, she looked up to him. "I'm fine," she repeated flatly. And then with just a bit more sincerity, "Really."

Lucas nodded slowly and studied her pleading expression, still not entirely convinced. She squeezed his hand once before dropping it.

"I know what will make you feel better," Lucas prompted as they began walking back toward the rest of the party.

"What?" she asked, eyeing him skeptically.

"Watching Dustin get pissed when he sees he was bumped to third again in Centipede and Dig Dug."

He watched as a mischievous smile spread over her face and her mood instantly was lifted.

…

A small crowd gathered as her Dig Dug score climbed higher and higher.

"No way…" Mike continuously muttered to himself. "That's impossible, there's no way."

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," Dustin chanted. "This is mental. Holy shit."

"You're almost there, you're almost there!" Will encouraged.

"Everybody needs to shut up," Max snapped at her buzzing friends.

Her score built on the corner of the screen as did the anticipation of everyone surrounding her. She was almost there. She had almost reached her goal.

Almost, almost, almost.

She was so close she could taste it. She just needed to focus.

Focus, focus, focus.

She concentrated not only on the game, but on the song stuck in her head to drown out the voices of those around her. The song Lucas had chosen for her that had been stuck on repeat in her mind ever since she first listened to the tape.

_I am the son and the heir / Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar / I am the son and heir of nothing in_ _particular_

She focused so hard on the song and the little man on the screen and her fingers on the controls that she did not even realize she had made it when she finally did.

"800,000!" all of her friends around her exclaimed when they saw the number just before she did. The small audience she had attracted began cheering for her and pride swelled like wildfire through her chest.

On any normal day, it would not be enough. She would not break concentration. She would continue to ride the wave of success, climbing higher and higher just to see how far she could go.

But she had just broken 800,000 points on Dig Dug, and she could not help but sneak a glance to the boy standing next to her.

His mouth was gaping open as he observed in silence. But he was not watching the screen, he was watching the expression of her concentration and the movement of her hands in their determination. When their eyes met, his face split into a wide smile that she could not help but mirror.

His amazement paired with her pride made her want to kiss him again.

Before she could do anything, she realized that her attention still needed to be on Dig Dug. But by the time she pried her eyes off of Lucas' face, it was too late. The brief moment cost her the rest of the game, but for once she did not care.

She entered in her name: MADMAX, and thought about how great it looked next to the new number.

"800,000 points," she breathed to herself as her personal goal came to a tangible reality across the screen in front of her.

_You shut your mouth / How can you say I go about things the wrong way?_

"800,0 _52_ ," Lucas corrected beside her, pointing to the last two digits of her new high score.

She turned to look at him once more and the stupid, beautiful, dorky grin was still plastered to his face. "I did it," she announced in slight disbelief.

"She's MadMax!" Dustin exclaimed behind her.

She would be lying if she had said she had not forgotten her friends were there. Dustin's shout was the only reminder, and what kept her from launching herself into Lucas' arms out of pure excitement then and there.

The group that had gathered all muttered a congratulations before dissipating, and all that was left were her friends.

Max watched as Dustin, who had bet that Max would not be able to hit such a high number, handed cash over to Lucas, who had strongly believed that she could. Meanwhile, Will offered her a congratulatory pat on the shoulder and Mike continued to gawk at the score on the screen.

"Not too bad for a stupid zoomer, huh?" she asked Mike.

He looked to her then and offered a lopsided smile. "You gotta teach me how to do that sometime."

Max started giggling, and then she looked back to the screen with her name and her score. She started thinking that maybe that day was not turning out to be so bad after all.

_I am human and I need to be loved / Just like everybody else does_

"So," she began, turning back to her friends,"which one of you losers is gonna try and beat me?"

…

As the night drew to an end, the party broke out into a chorus of, "See you later," just outside of the arcade.

Dustin and Will took off first, racing each other after placing a comic book bet. Mike headed off with them after Lucas assured that he would catch up.

This left Max and Lucas just enough time to say goodbye.

"Later, stalker," Max said, beginning to turn on her heel.

"Wait. Are you walking?" he suddenly realized, noticing for the second time that night that she did not have her skateboard. "Where's your board?"

"It broke," she vaguely explained. "So, yes. I'm walking."

"That's so far... Let me give you a ride home," he offered, snatching his bike from the rack.

Words were not needed with the pointed glare she gave as a response.

"To the end of your street, I mean."

She studied his hopeful expression for a moment before deeply exhaling. "I dunno, Lucas. It's just… Billy has been _awful_ today and…" she trailed off, not wanting to get into specifics.

It was his turn to study her, and though Max felt like she should be shrinking up under his careful gaze, she remained tall and defiant. But he was learning to see right through her.

"It's just dark…" he eventually began, finishing by shrugging one shoulder.

But as the shadow that was autumn of '83 passed over his face, Max knew exactly what he was getting at. Though the Gate had been closed, none of the boys liked to let each other bike around alone - let alone walk. And especially not at night. Not after Will disappeared.

But Max was not scared of the dark. Or anything else the streets of Hawkins had to offer. And while the threat of Demodogs no longer loomed, Billy Hargrove sure did. His wrath was what terrified her most of all.

The frown on Lucas' face had words poring out of her mouth before she gave them permission to. "Look, Lucas. I really like you, okay? And I don't want to ruin it by getting both of us killed by my stepbrother. I'll be fine."

A second passed while he processed her words before his face lit up and he cocked an eyebrow. Max wondered why he had to be so damn adorable all the time.

_There's a club if you'd like to go / You could meet somebody who really loves you_

"You like me?" is what he had gathered. As if kissing him twice had not made it obvious enough already.

She blinked at him before replying. "Don't be stupid."

His grin widened, which Max had not believed possible until she saw it happen. "Sorry, sorry," he said, holding up a hand in mock surrender as he corrected himself. "You _really_ like me."

_So you go and you stand on your own / And you leave on your own..._

Max rolled her eyes half-heartedly as her expression began to mirror his own. "Night, stalker. I'll see you later."

Turning away from the boy who's night she had made, Max began walking in the direction of her house. However, Lucas was quick to catch up, trailing his bike along beside him.

"Seriously, Lucas. My brother -"

"I'll fireball him," he responded simply, earning a laugh from Max.

_I am human and I need to be loved / Just like everybody else does_

Lucas could not protect Max from Billy. Hell, they had found out the hard way that he could not even protect _himself_ from Billy. Not without Steve Harrington stepping in. But for some reason she felt safe with him around, and so she finally gave in and let him walk her all the way to the end of her street.

And it was there, under the flickering lamp post on the corner of Old Cherry and Park, that Lucas kissed her.

He kissed her and she kissed him back and it was soft and light and sweet.

And maybe it was the way he slightly leaned down to her, or maybe it was the way he held her cheek in his hand, but Max could not help but notice that kissing was somehow so much better when he was the one initiating it.

All she knew was in that moment nothing else in the entire world mattered. Even the song in her head fell silent, pausing to allow her to memorize the moment. As he pulled away, she could not help but once again think that maybe that day was not turning out to be so bad after all.

"Congrats on Dig Dug, MadMax," he told her with a grin, their faces still just inches apart and glowing in the streetlight.

She wanted so badly to come up with a witty remark, or any response at all, but her brain was not functioning properly anymore and so all she could do was stare at him in awe.

"See you tomorrow?"

She managed a full nod as she pulled herself together, though she did not yet trust the strength of her own voice.

Lucas seemed to understand the effect, and after one last smile they parted in their separate directions.

She replayed the moment over and over again in her mind as she made her way down Old Cherry Road. She found herself grinning at the pavement and giggling softly into her own palm and thinking that maybe she _was_ such a girl, but maybe she did not mind.

Billy's music was loud enough to be heard before she even entered the house, and when she did her mom and Neil were in the living room. Usually coming home was something she dreaded, but not even the house she called Hell could put a damper on her mood.

"Why are you so smiley?" Neil asked tonelessly. Apathy was known to be one of his better moods.

"I got 800,000 points on Dig Dug," she half-lied. It was true she had reached the new high score, but that was not the reason her cheeks ached.

…

Not even Erica put could put a damper on his mood when Lucas got home that night.

No matter how hard he tried to distract himself, his mind always kept coming back around to the same string of events. _I really like you, okay?_

Eventually he gave into it and allowed himself to lay in bed and just remember. To just feel the way she was able to make him feel.

He had never understood any of it before he met her. He had never gotten why musicians wrote love songs or why high schoolers wanted to be constantly draped all over each other or why Mike spoke of El the way he did. But Max changed things.

Sure, he had crushes on girls before, but they were nothing like Max. No one had ever made him feel the way she did. Like he wanted to throw up, but in the best way possible. Like his insides were glowing, and he never wanted it to stop.

_"_ _Lucas, do you copy?"_ Mike radioed. Lucas did not move.

_"_ _He's probably making out with Max somewhere._ " Dustin, not too long after.

Lucas reached for the Supercomm on his bedside table and switched it off. He would tell his friends. Obviously and eventually. Just not yet. Not tonight.

For now, he just needed to think about Max and wonder if she was thinking about him, too. He did not need his obnoxious friends ruining that for him.

Until he ruined it for himself when he realized there was something important he had left out.

…

The next day, Max had to walk all the way to Hawkins Middle from where her stepbrother parked his Camaro at the high school, making her a few minutes late for first period. Leave it to Billy to snap her skateboard in half if only to get mad at her for running behind.

When she arrived at her locker, everyone else was already in class and she had the hallway to herself. Absentmindedly, she hummed the tune of her song - _How Soon Is Now? -_ while she spun the dial of her lock.

The locker clicked open, and when it did a torn corner of paper drifted to her feet. A note of Lucas' blue handwriting that had been shoved through the metal slats. Max found herself biting down a grin before she even read what he had written.

The five short words made he heart leap higher than she had ever thought possible. As if neither of them had made it obvious enough already.

_I really like you, too._


	6. Allied Warriors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It seems they had been and always would be friends. Time could change much, but not that."  
> -A.A. Milne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The section titled "September 1986" alludes to period-typical racism that is in NO WAY a reflection of my own beliefs. Please mind your triggers.

par⋅ty; ( _noun_ ) a _Dungeons & Dragons_ term for a group of allied warriors.

…

_FEBRUARY 1986_

When El had finally returned from hiding in December, the boys knew that one of the first of many things they wanted to show her was how to play D&D. Since Max had never played either, they picked a weekend that all six of them could get together and campaign.

Lucas set up two extra chairs while Dustin collated snacks for stamina. Will collected the game pieces that had been strewn about the room while Mike organized the Dungeon Master's binder in preparation. El and Max stood by idly waiting for further instruction.

"El, you're our mage," Mike told her. "Max, you'll be our rogue."

"A rogue?" asked Max.

"Like a thief," Lucas tried to explain. "It's one of the classes in the game."

"I'm a _thief_? What happened to zoomer?"

Mike rolled his eyes at the redhead he still found just a bit annoying. "We've been over this. 'Zoomer' isn't a real thing."

"Fine," Max said as she crossed her arms over her chest. "But what the hell is a rogue?"

"Arguably, rogues do the most zooming. They -" Dustin started before all of the boys began talking over each other.

Quickly, the talking escalated into fighting as they each tried to explain in their own terms who Max's character would be. She looked between the faces of the four boys with wide eyes before she met El's, who looked equally as overwhelmed by the sudden argument.

Knowing they would be here for a while, Max rolled her eyes dramatically at their friends and El nodded vehemently in agreement. Simultaneously, their faces spread into grins. They loved these boys, but God, were they annoying.

…

_SEPTEMBER 1986_

Being in high school brought on a whole new set of challenges, otherwise known as bullies.

After their run ins with El and Billy, Tory and James had learned their lesson and backed off of the group of friends. But that did not stop the upperclassmen from taking their turn with them.

The party was at the bottom of the barrel when it came to their own grade, and being underclassmen definitely did not help. Still, Lucas never expected to find what he did when he walked in the bathroom one afternoon.

Dustin was slumped against the wall in the corner by the sink, wincing in pain as Will cleaned the blood from his split lip with a paper towel. In the fluorescent lighting of the restroom, a sprouting bruise was also evident across the curly haired boy's cheekbone.

"What the hell happened?" Lucas asked as he approached his friends.

He looked to Dustin first, but when he provided nothing other than a slow shake of the head, he turned to Will. "He stood up to Greg Shapiro and he got punched. Twice."

" _Senior_ Greg Shapiro?" asked Lucas, referring to the hulking upperclassman who just so happened to be captain the wrestling team. And while Dustin was a burly guy, Greg was even bigger and far more muscular. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

"He was being a dick," mumbled Dustin. "I had to."

"He was running his mouth as always," elaborated Will, though the whole scenario was still vague. "Dustin tried to tell him off but…" he trailed off with a shrug and pushed his oversized glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

Lucas felt his brows pull together in confusion. What could Greg possibly have said or done that got Dustin worked up enough to try and prove him wrong? They all knew better at this point to lay low and keep out of the way. Especially when it came to Greg and his cronies. "What was he saying?"

"He was being a dick," Dustin mumbled once more.

Will said nothing, not even when Lucas pressed him. "Will?" he asked, and they boy gave another small shrug, refusing to make eye contact and focusing on Dustin's injury.

But the unresponsiveness had given so much away. It was in the one small action that it hit Lucas. Immediately, he felt his body run cold and the blood drain from his face as his hands balled into fists. "It was about Max," he stated, voice suddenly thick with a burning dread. "Wasn't it?"

"Not just Max," Will admitted softly. "Both of you."

For the first time in his life, Dustin had no comment.

Every muscle in Lucas' body tensed when he heard those words. Though he was able to take a good guess at what the conversation entailed and was not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer, Lucas felt he had to ask, "What did he say?"

Dustin studied his friend's expression before giving a small shake of his head. "I can't… I can't say it."

Lucas knew the answer before he even asked the question. "Was it because I'm black?"

In his friend's hesitation, Lucas found his answer.

He ran a hand over his face as he paced in a small circle, trying to collect his thoughts. "Dustin -"

"Don't," Dustin cut him off, his words strong for the first time since Lucas entered the bathroom. "Don't say it, Lucas. I know it was stupid, okay? But the things he was saying… You guys are my best friends and I couldn't just let it go. I couldn't."

"It was bad," Will solemnly attested.

It was Lucas' turn to study Dustin's expression. His brows creased in the middle and his eyes were pleading, though he could not move the rest of his face without it aching.

Lucas let out a long and frustrated sigh. He did not know what to feel, especially since he had no idea what Greg Shapiro had said about Max and him in the first place. It was a surprise that the guy had even noticed that the two were an item, being as they refrained from most public affection for this exact reason. Nevertheless, Lucas stepped forward and hugged the friend that had just taken two punches in his defense.

"Did you at least hit him back?" Lucas asked.

"A swing and a miss," Dustin shrugged. He stepped away and turned to look in the mirror. "But, hey, now I look tough... Girls like that, right? Thank God he didn't knock out any of my teeth…"

…

_MARCH 1987_

Mike pushed his way through the crowded halls to catch up with Max before she disappeared into one of the classrooms.

"Hey, Max!" he called once she was in earshot. "Excuse me, coming through. Max!"

She stopped at the sound of her name, stepping off to the side and out of the flow of traffic while she searched for the source of the familiar voice. Quickly, she discovered Mike catching up to her. He had sprouted to be upwards of six feet tall and was therefore relatively easy to spot in a crowd. Unfortunately, that also meant Max having to crane her neck just to talk to the kid.

"Hey," he said, slightly breathless.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Me and El are going to the Hawk tonight to catch a movie. Would you and Lucas wanna come? Like a double date kinda thing?"

Though it was not the first ever double date the four friends would have gone on, Max still found herself taken a bit aback by the question. It had been nearly two and a half years since the events of '84, but Max still felt as if she were the new kid. It seemed like just yesterday Mike was calling her annoying and telling her to go home while El would not speak to her at all.

It had been nearly two and a half years and slowly but surely she had become a full fledged member of the party. No longer just a tagalong, Max was more than included. Mike's simple question served as a gentle reminder to her of that.

"Yeah, sounds fun," she said as she tried to hold back a grin. "I'll ask him."

"Awesome," Mike smiled as he backed away. "See you at lunch?"

"Yeah. Later, loser."

…

_MARCH 1991_

After the divorce, Karen Wheeler got the house. However, she felt as if the home was far too big for just she and Holly, and opted to put it on the market.

Both Nancy and Mike returned to Hawkins for the occasion.

It was not the ideal way for a college student to be spending his spring break, but Mike knew he had to get his things packed and out of his Mom's way before she sold it all in a yard sale.

It would prove itself to be quite the feat, but he knew just the people to call on for help.

"I can't believe your mom's selling," said Will as he peeled the posters and drawings from the walls of the basement.

"I can," scoffed Mike, shoving insignificant debris into garbage bags.

"It's crazy," said El from her position on the floor. She deconstructed her blanket fort with a heavy heart.

"It's absolutely ridiculous." Dustin was shoving old toys and movies and games into boxes on one side of the room while Lucas did the same on the other. "Do you know how many memories are down here?"

And he was right. The nearly suffocating weight of every moment they had shared in that basement hung heavily the air. They all sat quietly for a minute, just reminiscing.

Max broke the silence when she pulled something out of one of the old boxes she had been tasked with sorting through. "Look, Mike."

Everyone turned to see the old and worn Dungeon Master's binder in her hands. Lucas, who was closest to her, took it and began flipping through the pages.

"The board and the pieces are all in here, too," Max announced as she rifled through the rest of the box's contents.

"Put it in the keep pile," instructed Mike, even though they had not played in years. "All of it."

"Even _this_?" asked Max, pulling out an old yellow t-shirt from Benny's Burgers.

Mike nodded, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. All of it."

They continued to work into the early hours of the morning.

Soon, it was all said and done. The basement was nothing but a shell of what it used to be: plaid wallpaper and wood-paneled walls, a couch and a coffee table and an outdated TV, and boxes upon boxes of memories.

"Thanks, guys," said Mike when the last box was pushed into the 'donate' corner. "I guess this is it."

Solemnly, everyone agreed. But no one moved to leave.

Max glanced to Lucas across the room, then to each of the crestfallen expressions of her other four best friends. And she felt it, too. She felt the heavy sentimentality and wistful mourning, even if she had not been there for the first eight years of their memory making.

The Wheeler's basement had been a designated hangout spot. It is where they played board games and watched movies and did homework. It was where they fought and cried and fell in love. Where they talked of top-secret topics and laughed at dumb jokes they had made. Where they learned from each other's mistakes and created the rules of friendship. The basement was where they had all felt safe. Where they all felt like they belonged. Where they had all grown up together. But just because they had packed it all away did not mean there was not room for one last hurrah.

"Alright, nerds," said Max, clapping her hands together to interrupt their own sad internal monologues. She walked to the corner where they had moved the box of D&D equipment. "Let's make this one count."

"You want to play D&D? Now?" asked Mike, eyebrows raised, as she shoved the box into his arms.

Max shrugged. "Why not?"

"I don't have anything written."

"Then make something up."

And so he did. They all gathered in a circle on the floor, the game board in between them, pulling an all nighter as they passed a bottle of white wine they had stolen from Karen's liquor cabinet and rolled the dice to prompts Mike conjured up on the spot.

It was bad. Really bad. The boys kept arguing over forgotten rules and historical accuracies while the girls still did not fully understand the game and all of it's intricacies. They kept getting sidetracked by different conversations of life and college and the future, only to remember they were in the middle of a impromptu campaign. Still, it had been the funnest D&D game they had ever played together.

And it would not be the last. The six of them were bound as a party for life. There were no two ways around it. And, sure, the walls of basement held all of their deepest secrets and fondest memories, but that was all that it was. A basement. A place. A backdrop.

But Mike and Will and Lucas and Dustin and El and Max were the foreground. Those memories were created because they had each other. Because being together was all they needed.

And together, they would always be would always be friends. Best friends. They would always find a way to make new memories elsewhere, just as good and fond and treasured as the old ones.


	7. Don't Be Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Be with someone who makes it fun to be in love."  
> -Amen Amare

Her best subject had always been English. Things like grammar and parts of speech came much more easily than math or science. But for some reason, there was only one word in her vocabulary that adequately described him: Warm.

Because warmth was in everything about him.

It was in the coffee-soaked color of his eyes. In the way his hugs felt like putting on a big sweater straight out of the dryer. In the way he rubbed the feeling back into her frozen fingers when they got too cold.

When he smiled it was like coming home after being stuck out in a blizzard. He glowed when he laughed and it was as if she were basking in the rays of the sun. Even just the way he looked at her made her melt like chocolate left out in the summer.

He was maroons and mustards and burnt oranges. He was freshly baked brownies and beach sand and flannel sheets. He was wool socks and cinnamon and that one spring day in the middle of January.

But above all else, his love was what warmed her from the inside out, like drinking lukewarm hot chocolate. The kind that was deliciously sweet and comfortingly familiar, but never hot enough to worry about getting a burnt tongue.

...

She made it so easy for him to love her.

It was in the way the freckles on her nose and cheeks formed new constellations. It was in the way her brows creased in concentration and the ocean lived in her ever-rolling eyes. It was in the way she played video games or rode her skateboard or drove a car, like she was made to be going fast. It was in the way their hands fit together perfectly and how she always smelled like soap and honey and how she had a certain smile that was just for him.

It was in the way she would spell check the notes he passed her and the way she listened while he talked for hours about topics she did not entirely care about and the way she would get frustrated over board games. It was in the way they always had fun together, even if it was just dancing around his kitchen as they sang along to pop music, or laughing at stupid jokes they had made instead of doing homework.

It was in the way she looked at him like there was nobody else she would rather see. Like they shared some kind of exciting secret. Like they had won.

Because they had.

...

_AUGUST 1985_

As soon as Steve Harrington had gotten his own place, it quickly became a popular hang out spot for the members of the party.

After high school, he had signed up for classes at the local community college and began working for his dad, whose house he had moved out of as soon as possible.

Now, he was living on his own in a small townhouse apartment on Chestnut Street and would frequent visits from his favorite group of shitheads.

That day in late August, it was Lucas and Will and Dustin and Max who where lounging around on the floor of his living room, as Mike was on one of his occasional visits with El.

"Hey, Lucas," Dustin started during a lull in conversation. "Truth or dare?"

"Uh… dare, I guess," Lucas played along.

Dustin thought for a moment, light eyes flickering between his three friends. "I dare you to tickle Max."

Max's head snapped toward him, eyes wild in betrayal. "Why?"

"'Cause you look angry."

"That's just my face," she reasoned simply, already inching away from Lucas.

But he was faster. He reached out and caught her by the sides. Immediately, she was trying to squirm away, cursing him out and begging for him to stop in between gasps and giggles.

He complied after not too long and attempted to pull her in and kiss her cheek as a short apology, but she was already grabbing a pillow off of the couch behind her and hitting him over the arm with it.

"Ow!" he chuckled.

"You're an ass," she accused breathlessly.

If Lucas had known what he was about to say before he said it, he never would have. Not like this. Not in Steve Harrington's living room, and definitely not in front of their friends.

But he had not know. And so the truth slipped off of his tongue before he had registered what he was saying for the first time. "Aww, come on. You know I love you."

For just a second, complete and utter silence fell over the room, as everyone - including Lucas himself - sat in shock of his words. Dustin's jaw dropped and Will's face lit up in a smile. Max looked to Lucas with wide eyes as he averted his own.

"Don't be stupid," she had told him once before and was telling him again now, but Lucas could hear the playful smile in her voice as it tugged at the corners of her mouth.

His hand found hers, but he was still too embarrassed to glance in her direction. So instead he turned to Will. "Truth or dare?"

…

_NOVEMBER 1985_

Max would often turn to Lucas whenever the tensions in her household became too much for her to bear. She just needed someone who would listen, and Lucas was perfect for the job.

He was more than willing to sit back in silence and just let her talk about whatever was going on inside of her head. She would go on and on, letting go of whatever it was that was weighing her down. Sometimes that meant frustrated rants and balled fists and long strings of incoherent curses.

Other times it meant fragments of ideas that spilled from her mouth as soon as they entered her mind, accompanied by long pauses and trailing off frequently and starting one story before finishing the last.

Often it meant biting back the urge to cry.

"Jesus," she muttered, leaning back against his headboard and wiping the tears from her eyes before they had the chance to roll down her cheeks. "I don't know why it even matters that much. I guess… I dunno. I guess I just sometimes feel like no one really loves me, ya know? Like not even my own family, even though they're supposed to be unconditional and all that bullshit."

Lucas shook his head slightly even though Max was too preoccupied with picking at a loose string on the seam of her jeans to see it. "There are plenty of people who love you, Max."

She sniffled before giving a half hearted scoff that let Lucas know her question before she even asked it. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Like who?"

"Like me," he told her just as softly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Because it was. But for some reason she had not been expecting it.

She turned to him then, searching his face for something, but was met with only sincerity.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. So she leaned over and rested her body against his instead.

Lucas could not help but be reminded of how nicely they fit together, and he knew then that all of her troubles would one day work out just fine. He would make sure of it.

He wanted to make her safe in her own home. He wanted to take the weight of the world off of her shoulders. He wanted to make her feel as loved as she was, though the direct topic would not come up again in conversation for another four months.

…

_MARCH 1986_

She had not meant to fall in love with him. Or with anyone at all. Probably ever. Max had spent so long thinking she did not deserve someone like Lucas. Billy had made sure of it.

And maybe that's why she was so afraid to tell him. Because it was too good to be true. Because relationships that start in middle school never last. Because she had watched own mother try and piece together a broken heart.

But one day as she and Lucas were doing homework on the floor of his bedroom, she felt as if something in the air had shifted. It was the moment she realized that JJ had been right.

_"_ _There's someone for everyone,"_ he had told her once. Back when she lived in California. Back before she knew Lucas. Before she knew someone as perfect for her as him could even exist in this world.

The feeling of it all hit her suddenly when she was in the middle of bullshitting her way through a history essay. The song on the radio changed, and as the intro rang through the room, her heart felt the weight of it's meaning before her brain could place it with a title.

The Smiths. _How Soon Is Now?_

She looked over to Lucas to see if he had noticed. Negative. Instead, his spine curved and his shoulders hunched over the textbook in his lap while his eyes narrowed in concentration. Sunshine came in through the slats in the blinds, spotlighting his frame in stripes of warm glow as his lips silently formed the words on the page before him.

A crease formed in his brow as he shook his head slightly, flipping back to re-read words he had already gone through. Trying to make sense of what it all could possibly mean. As he did so, he began tapping the eraser of his pencil rhythmically on the edge of the hardcover.

The moment of sudden understanding washed over his face like a small victory and he immediately shifted his torso to jot something down in the notebook beside him.

There was nothing special about the moment, except for the fact that there was everything special about Lucas. But for whatever reason, Max's mind had chosen exactly then to realize that this was it for her.

Maybe they were as young and naive as people say, but she loved him. Maybe relationships that start in middle school truly never last, but that was for them to decide. Maybe it was all too good to be true, but he was her someone.

"Hey, I love you," she announced for the first time.

He looked up from his page immediately, slowly straightening his back and shoulders while studying her face. As her words sank in, a slow smirk grew over his lips and his inky eyes gleamed. After seconds or minutes he finally spoke. "I know."

Max felt her face instantly frown in annoyance. "Don't be stupid," she told him as she reached out to kick him gently in the ribs.

His grin only widened along with his smugness for himself.

"Don't make me take it back, either," she not-so-threateningly mumbled, turning her attention back to the European Renaissance.

She heard Lucas' textbook collide with a soft thud on the floor just before she felt his index finger hook under her chin, tilting her face up toward his.

The next thing she knew, his lips were on hers. Just briefly, but so soft and sweet she could sigh.

Upon pulling away, he tucked a strand of copper hair behind her ear, resting his forehead against hers and and whispering, "You know I love you, Max."

Her insides radiated his reds and yellows and oranges. His sun and cinnamon and warmth.

And she could not help but smile at him as if they had won. Because, in a way that was all their own, they had.

…

_DECEMBER 1999_

"Woah!" Lucas exclaimed when he caught sight of what was on the store's shelves.

He was supposed to be helping Max shop for a gift for the Henderson's baby shower, but the quick errand shortly became more of a chore. _"God, babies are so boring,"_ Max had groaned after staring at an array of brightly colored foam blocks for ten minutes.

It was not too long after that they had found themselves in the boy's section of the toy store, and as Max took interest in a wall of Hot Wheels, Lucas had found himself stumbling across the Star Wars gear.

He reached for the lightsaber as soon as he noticed it. He had seen the collapsible three-foot long tubes of red and green and blue plastic before. Hell, he had even owned a few back in the day. But this one was different. This one was _double bladed_. Darth Maul style.

The part of Lucas that was still ten years old desperately needed to show it off to Mike and Dustin and Will.

_"_ Hey, Max," he called. "Can I get this?"

She turned to see exactly what 'this' was, and cocked an eyebrow at the toy in his hands. She answered with giggle. "For you or the babies?"

Now that she mentioned it, getting the unborn twins lightsabers did not seem like too bad of an idea, and Lucas was positive Dustin would get a kick out of it. But the one with the double blades was for himself, and that answer was written all over his face.

"You're an adult," Max shrugged with one shoulder. "And I'm not your mom, so if you want it, then get it."

His face spread easily into a smile. "You know I'm in love with you, right?"

As if he had not told her a million times before.

She shook her head at him as she turned back to the tiny toy cars, a grin forming over her own face. "Don't be stupid, stalker."


	8. Armageddon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What if we could all stop being different colors, different backgrounds, and just be in love?"  
> -E. Lockhart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains examples of violence and period-typical racism that are in NO WAY a reflection of my own beliefs. Please mind your triggers.

_DECEMBER 1985_

When Max opened her locker, a piece of notebook paper drifted to the ground. Lucas, she figured. He liked to do this kind of thing often.

Will ooh-ed, wiggling his eyebrows playfully at her.

She rolled her eyes, brushing it off. "It's probably nothing," she told him as she unfolded the paper.

"Speaking of who," said Will, turning his attention to Lucas as he approached.

But Max could not. The loose leaf suddenly felt weighted in her hands as she stared down at the letters inked heavily in permanent marker across the page.

She knew what the slur meant. Billy liked to use it when he was drunk and angry with her.

The blood rushed to her ears and drowned out the noises of the bustling hallway.

It was not until Lucas ripped the page from her hands that she tuned back into her surroundings. She looked to Lucas as he looked at the note with the same expression of disgust and disbelief. He turned to her, wide eyes filled with equal parts fury and concern. "Where did you get this?"

"It was in my locker," Max heard herself say.

"What does it say?" Will asked. Lucas held the paper out for him to squint at. "What does that mean?"

Lucas and Max exchanged a glance, just before they heard snickering not too far away.

They turned in the direction of the sound. Troy and a couple of his cronies had not-so-subtly been watching the scene unfold.

A wave of white hot rage flooded her system. She looked to Lucas, who looked more hurt by the torment than anything, though his jaw tightened just the same. It only fueled Max's fire.

Slamming her locker shut, she plucked the page out of Lucas' hand and, ignoring any and all protests from the two boys, marched over to where Troy stood.

"You," she spat, holding up the page. "You did this."

"Yeah," Troy chuckled. "So? I'm not wrong."

Lucas was there in an instant, trying to pull the fiery girl out of the way. "Max, it's not worth it."

"See what I mean?" Troy asked his friends, just before spitting the words he had written on the page back into Max and Lucas' faces.

Hearing the phrase out loud made Lucas freeze, and damn near made Max's vision flash red.

The next thing she knew, her feet were planted, her hands were balled, and her fist collided with Troy's jaw just as her father had once taught her.

The small crowd they had attracted gasped, and immediately Troy lunged. But Lucas was there putting himself between the two as a human barrier.

James was quick to get a hold of Max, bear hugging her from behind to keep her back. She tried to wiggle herself free to no avail. James was the freaking Hulk.

Meanwhile, Troy had chosen to avenge his own face by throwing a hook at Lucas'. Because while he was a bully, he had enough of a moral code to not take his aggression out on a girl.

Lucas tried as best as he could to fight Troy off of him, but his lack of experience put him in a position to easily become overpowered.

Max writhed against James' grip, calling out for Troy to stop, while Will stood by shellshocked and frozen, watching everything play out.

Troy had just gotten Lucas pinned up against one of the walls when a sudden and unexpected saving grace came swooping in.

The growing crowd parted as Billy Hargrove, second round senior and king of Hawkins High, made his way through, guns blazing and looking like he was more than ready to crush one of these freshmen with the toe of his boot if need be.

James was his first and only target because he had Max. Billy pried his little stepsister out of the beefy kid's arms and violently pinned him up against the nearest set of lockers in one fluid motion. "You stay away from my sister, understand? You will _never_ touch her again," he growled.

This distracted Troy for only a moment. But the moment was long enough for Troy's other two friends - Marcus H. and Scotty P. - to pull him off of Lucas. Because while they were bullies, too, they had enough of a moral code to realize that their target taken enough unnecessary hits.

Lucas sunk to the ground with his back against the wall. Max and Will both rushed to his side.

"I'm so sorry," Max began profusely apologizing, feeling like this was all her fault for drawing first blood.

She was cut off by the booming voice of her stepbrother. "Max!" He was no longer the smooth talking ladies man the girls of Hawkins High were used to seeing, nor the resigned and submissive boy he was when Neil was home, nor the tough guy who held his chin high and pretended not to know her in the halls. Instead, he was the Billy that Max new best: loud and livid and demanding. 

She went stiff instantly, turning her attention toward him. But his rage was not directed at her for once.

"Go," he demanded harshly, nodding to Lucas and then the waistband of his own jeans. "Both of you. Jesus fuck, _go._ "

There had been a time when he had not wanted anyone to know they were related. Now he was fighting her battles for her, even though she had never asked him to.

She scrambled to her feet, confused but following orders.

"You better not drive off without me," he warned, as he maintained his dominating stance with a terrified James pinned to the locker.

She did not say anything, just unclipped his keys from his belt loop before returning to Lucas.

Max and Will helped him to his feet and past the crowd. Just as they were exiting through the nearest set of doors, faculty could be heard sending kids to class and banishing Billy and James off to the principal's office.

…

The next day Lucas showed up to school bruised and bandaged and swollen, though there was no sign of Max or Billy at all. The only upside was the rumor that he had broken Troy's nose.

However, Lucas found his mind was not on Troy. It was on Billy.

Big Bad Billy swooping in and indirectly saving Lucas' life had been uncharacteristically kind of him.

Two days after the fight, when Lucas finally saw Max again, he told her just as much.

She shook her head and looked at her shoes. "He didn't do it for you. Or me. He only ever does anything for himself."

Lucas watched her carefully as he waited for her to elaborate.

After a moment she sighed and lifted her head to meet his eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke. "If he had let anything happen to me, my stepdad would've killed him."

A dark feeling twisted in Lucas' gut as he realized she was not exaggerating. Not at all.

But there was something else there. A glimmer of something he had seen in her eyes before. It took him a moment to realize it was fear.

_…_

_APRIL 1987_

On Max's sixteenth birthday, Lucas found himself sitting in her living room for the first time ever.

Her mother, Susan had invited him over for dinner, much to Max's distaste.

_"_ _Are you forgetting who your husband is?"_ Max had asked, as if the arrival of Armageddon had just been announced.

_"_ _Maxine,"_ her mother warned in response.

She held her hands up in surrender. _"I'm just saying, we all know this is, like, the worst idea ever."_

And she was right. They all knew it was an awful idea. Yet, there Lucas was anyways, discussing the complexities of the AV club and the baseball team and his job at the pizza parlor with Mrs. Hargrove. All the while, he was hyper aware of how on edge Max was next to him, and how she kept just enough distance between them for it to be awkward.

Lucas wanted so desperately to reach out of her, to pull her closer and take her hands and assure her that everything was going to be okay, but she kept her arms crossed over her chest as she sat up straight and avoided eye contact.

She was not the stoic and snarky Max everyone was used to seeing. She was not the playful and endearing Max that Lucas had come to know and love. She was alert and anxious. Scared, even. And Lucas was not sure what to make of it.

Both Max and her mother jumped slightly when the front door opened. Neither knew which version of Neil Hargrove would show up for dinner that night.

Susan stood as Neil entered, plastering the most welcoming smile she could muster over her face. "Neil! Happy to have you home."

But Neil could not be bothered to pay any attention to his wife. He was too busy eyeing the boy on the couch as he slowly made his way into the house.

"Neil, this is Lucas. He is Maxine's… Lucas," Susan explained slowly. Her voice wavered nervously, though her exterior did not allow itself to show any sign of it. "He'll be having dinner with us tonight. Remember, I told you this morning?"

Lucas stood and offered his own best smile with an extended hand, though he was beginning to feel waves of nerves wash over him, too. "It's good to meet you, sir."

Rather than meeting his hand to shake, Neil gave Lucas one last glance-over before glaring over at his wife. "This is a fucking joke, right?" he asked calmly, with a razor-sharp edge to his voice.

"Neil," Mrs. Hargrove softly tried to warn.

Lucas dropped his arm back down to his side. Immediately Max took it and stood, leading him past her stepfather and toward the front door, mumbling to herself, "I knew this was a bad idea."

"Maxine, please don't go," her mother pleaded.

But Max did not give her so much as a second glance, and the moment she reached for the doorknob her stepfather was at her side, gripping her wrist.

"Neil!" Susan warned, much more sharply than before.

"Ow!" Max exclaimed under her breath, trying to move from his grasp.

"You listen to what your mother tells you," Neil ordered, moving to block the door and releasing his stepdaughter's arm.

Immediately and instinctively, she backed up into Lucas. Even though they both knew he did not stand a damn chance against her former Marine of a stepfather, it was with him that she felt safest.

"Maxine," her mother began with a pitiful attempt at restoring the cheeriness to her voice. "Why don't you and Lucas go set the table."

Max did not hesitate to follow the order, pulling Lucas closely behind.

She gripped his hand so tightly that he was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers, but was quick to release him as soon as they got to the kitchen, burying her face in her hands.

"Max -" Lucas began softly, a stark contrast to the harsh tones of Susan and Neil in the other room.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. She looked him in the eye for the first time since they got to her house, and Lucas could see the emotions building behind her clear blue eyes. Anger. Embarrassment. Fear. "This was such a bad idea, I never should have -"

"Max, it's fine," Lucas tried to assure her.

"No. No, it's not," she insisted. Her expression was so hurt, so vulnerable. Like an old dog someone had kicked one too many times, even after it had already fallen to the ground.

As if right on cue, to prove Max's point, Neil raised his voice in the other room just loud enough for Max and Lucas to overhear. Maybe even purposefully so. His words came out like continuous blows to the gut as he went on about how people like "that boy" have "no place in this house," and especially "no where near your daughter, Susan." A long string of disgusting slurs ensured that his words would settle heavily on anyone within earshot.

And they did. Silence ensued. Everyone stopped breathing, even.

Lucas watched as Max's eyes went wide and the color drained from her face. She looked just as stricken as Lucas felt.

She stood there frozen for a moment, just looking at Lucas, before she took action. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to him, as if her stepfather's words were her own fault.

She took Lucas' hand again and marched him through the belly of the beast, leading him back through the kitchen and living room, past her arguing mother and stepfather, and out the front door as she ignored any protests from Neil. This time, her mother did not speak a word to her.

They did not know what else to do, so they ran, but they did not make it very far before Max hunched over herself on the sidewalk with her hands on her knees. She struggled to catch her breath, but the very moment she did, she looked over her shoulder. They had left the house behind, but she was still on edge.

"Here," she instructed simply, pulling Lucas into the woods off the side of the road.

They walked a few yards in before she stopped and buried her face in her hands once more, pacing in small circles.

Leaning against the nearest tree, Lucas gave her space for a minute as they both tried to fully process everything that had just happened.

It was not too long before she whipped around to face him suddenly, and her eyes were so wild with different emotions that Lucas did not know where to start picking them apart to differentiate them all.

"First it's Billy. Then Troy, and then Greg. And now it's my fucking stepfather." Max let out a shaky breath as her eyes filled with tears and her hands balled into fists. "Why can't we just be in love and have it not matter?"

Her tone was of anger to mask the hurt she felt, and it took Lucas a moment to separate it from the actual meaning of her words. The same words he felt, too, but never knew how to express.

As he studied her exasperated expression, he felt his own eyes water, too. He looked to his feet in hopes she would not notice. "I dunno, Max… I dunno."

Stepping forward, she closed the distance between them then, circling her arms around his waist and burying her face in the crook of his neck. In return, he held her close and pressed a kiss to her head.

They stood in the woods like that for a while, silently staining their cheeks with tears as they hoped that maybe one day things could be different. That one day they could be in love and such superficial things would no longer affect them.

…

When Max was not in school the next day, Lucas began to worry. So when he spotted her at her locker the day after, he was more than relieved.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hey."

"How was…" he began to ask, but could not quite seem to get the words out. She understood him anyways. _How was everything after you went home?_

"It was fine," she told him. It was a lie, and they both knew it. "But it doesn't matter."

She laced her fingers through his and smiled softly, shutting her locker.

They walked hand in hand through the halls that day, and every day from then on. They knew people would stare and talk and say ignorant things, but they were young and in love. To them, nothing else mattered.

And to their pleasant surprise, not everyone's response was a negative one. Because there were people like Will. Having been there for all of their highs and lows, their victories and hardships, he beamed pridefully at his friends when they passed in the hall. Little did Lucas and Max know then that their own small act of bravery would soon inspire Will's own.


	9. Untitled No. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Art is to console those broken by life."  
> -Vincent Van Gogh

_DECEMBER 1988_

"Woah," they all agreed in unison.

They had known that Will was a talented artist, but somehow they had never anticipated just _how_ talented. In recent years he had kept most of his work to himself, but when the art director of their high school invited him to display some of his work at a city gala for aspiring young artists, the party should have known to expect more than they did. It was kind of a huge deal with major scholarship opportunities on the line.

"Do you like them?" Will asked as he anxiously fiddled with the cuffs of his slightly oversized suit.

On the wall in front of them, a series of five charcoal portraits hung in horizontal row. Close up shots depicted five familiar faces portraying five different moods in incredible detail: Mike Wheeler (head tilted, lips parted, dark eyes comforting), Max Mayfield (eyebrow cocked, mouth pulled into a snarky smirk, looking like she had a secret), Lucas Sinclair (chin high and confident, eyes amused, ready to take on the world), El Hopper (doe eyes innocent, brows peaked curiously, but able to attack at any moment), and Dustin Henderson (grinning, clear eyes sinking behind full cheeks, a perfect set of teeth as bright white as the paper). In that order.

Just below the portraits hung a small plaque that read: William S. Byers, _Crazy Together_

The party was so incredibly taken aback by the beauty and talent and sentiment that, for what may be the first time ever, every last one of them was rendered speechless.

El was the first to break the silence, but even then she struggled a moment to find the words she was looking for. She settled on the first thing that came to mind: "Pretty."

"Jonathan," Joyce started from behind the party. "Get a picture of them all in front of it."

"Mom -" Jonathan chuckled. He was about to argue that they would block the art by standing in front of it, but was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.

Jonathan spun around to see a boy his own age and a girl a few years younger. The boys greeted each other excitedly and Joyce wrapped the girl in a hug.

"Who is he?" Max asked to no one in particular. Jonathan Byers was never one for keeping many friends.

"Good question, but who is _she_?" Dustin mumbled next to her.

Max studied the girl as she pulled away from Joyce's embrace. She was dressed to the nines in a black, halter style gown, complete with a knee length, a-line skirt. Because of this, it was easy to assume she was one of the art students, who were all required dress up for the occasion.

Her face was conventionally pretty, with a strong girl-next-door look in her wide eyes. Her hair was a sandy blonde, her skin was tanned - even in the winter - and her frame was long and slender.

The boy - Jonathan's friend - was obviously her brother. If the facial structure had not given it away, then it was evident in his messy hair, which was the same shade of blond, and his smooth skin, which was the same shade of tan. And like her, he was tall. Maybe even taller than Mike. Though where the girl and Mike were both slim, the brother had an average build. One he attempted to hide by carrying himself with a slouch to his shoulders.

The siblings were an attractive pair. With just one glance, Max could tell that the girl was way out of Dustin's league, but his new prospect was exciting to her.

Max looked to Dustin with her eyebrows raised.

"What?" he asked.

"Go talk to her," she told him as if the answer was blatantly obvious. She glanced back just in time to discover Will walking over to greet the siblings with the same level of enthusiasm as Joyce and Jonathan. "Look! You already have a wingman."

"Will? No," insisted Dustin. "Love the kid, but no."

"Suit yourself," Max mumbled.

And so he did.

But before they knew it, Will and the girl were approaching the party, and Max noticed Dustin tense up nervously beside her.

"Just play it cool," Max whispered. Dustin nodded.

The blonde girl smiled kindly at Will's friends before turning her attention to their portraits. Her face dropped when she saw them, mouth gaping open slightly as she took in the artwork. "Holy shit, Will," she breathed, through Max would have never pegged her as the swearing type.

Will chuckled shortly next to her. "Thanks."

She turned and smiled at Will's friends again, examining each of the muses before comparing them to their charcoal renditions once more.

"Get Lucas to wingman me," Dustin whispered in Max's ear. "He won't do it if I ask."

She held back an eye roll before looking to Lucas, who creased his brows briefly in confusion. She glanced subtly in the direction of the girl in the black dress and understanding washed over Lucas' face. Max then pointed to him, and then he pointed to himself with raised eyebrows. She nodded and he shook his head. "Just do it," she whispered. He huffed and with a smirk, giving in.

Dustin did this kind of thing often enough. Seldom was it successful.

Max returned her attention to Will just in time for him to begin addressing his group of friends, "Hey, I don't know if you guys remember Julie. She used to come to my birthday parties and stuff when we were little."

" _Oh yeah_ ," murmured Mike as the recognition dawned on him. "Your mom was, like, best friends with Joyce, right?"

"Yes," the girl nodded.

"So this is Mike, Lucas, and Dustin, who you might remember. And then this is El and Max," Will introduced. "Everyone this is Julie."

" _Oh, yeah!_ " It was Dustin's turn to come to his own epiphany. "You were the little blonde girl who was convinced we all had cooties."

She looked to Dustin with narrowed eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah, and weren't you the kid with no teeth who pushed me in the pool?"

Dustin's eyebrows shot up his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak, but for the second time that night he was speechless.

Max, biting back a giggle, glanced to Lucas for help, but the girl - Julie - began talking again before he had the chance. "But you could do something really cool with your arms, right?"

Dustin's face spread into a wide grin - mirroring the one in his portrait - as he passed Max his coat. "Dustin, don't," she tried to whisper to him. Admittedly, the arm trick was cool, but it was no way to win over a girl.

She tried to warn him, but it was too late. He was already holding his arms out in front of him and folding his shoulders into his chest.

At this point, the trick had lost it's effect on the party members. They were all more interested in seeing Julie's reaction, which was much more unusual than any of them could have expected. Most people groaned in disgust when they saw what Dustin could do, but Julie's big eyes gleamed with an air of impression. "Mental."

Dustin put his shoulders back in place and took his jacket from Max, unable to smother the pride that radiated from his face.

"His teeth grew in, too," Lucas lamely attempted.

" _Don't_ ," Max whispered to Dustin. Again.

But once again, it was too late. Almost instinctively at this point, Dustin made that weird purring sound. Everyone waited for Julie's reaction, and though her face did not give away much, Max, once more, assumed that Dustin had just ruined everything for himself.

That was until Julie told him, "That almost sounded like Chewbacca."

She knew Star Wars and did not think Dustin was being a complete weirdo. _And_ she was hot? Max was floored, to say the least. She looked around and everyone in their small crowd was equally as shocked, including Dustin himself. Who was this girl?

Max could tell Dustin was about to become flustered again, but before he could make any further attempt to embarrass himself, Julie's brother was cutting in. "Jules!" he called over to her. "Joyce and Jonathan wanna see your painting."

"Oh, me too!" said Will.

Julie offered a small smile to the boy next to her. "It's not as good as yours," she admitted humbully, taking one last glance at Will's portraits. "It's this way."

The gala consisted of four rooms that separated artists by grade. Will's piece was in the first, because he was a senior, and everyone followed Julie, a sophomore, into the third. Dustin, Lucas, and Max trailed behind.

"Who _is_ this girl?" asked Dustin, heart-eyed and lovestruck.

"If you don't ask her out, I will for you," threatened Max.

"Come on, Max. She'd never say yes to me. Especially when I have a terrible wingman who doesn't do anything." He shot said wingman a look. "You're fired, by the way."

Lucas held his hands up in defeat. "I don't know why you're convinced that I'm good at this."

"I dunno, maybe because you and Max have been together since middle school." Relatively recent events were quick to be glossed over and ignored, much to Lucas and Max's contentment.

"That's exactly my point, man. I've only ever tried to flirt with Max, and even then I wasn't good at it."

"But you still got her, didn't you?"

"Stop," Max cut in. "Lucas, I love you but you're a terrible wingman. All four of you guys are." Which was true. Though improvements had been made over the years, the boys were all still pretty clueless when it came to talking to girls that were not Max or El, no matter the situation. "Dustin, I'll take over. Are you ready?"

Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest before nodding.

She began dragging Dustin over to the canvas that the rest of the group now stood in front of. "Just be yourself. Somehow it might to be working so far."

"Thanks, I think."

They stopped in their tracks when they caught sight of the art being awed at. It was a simple, yet large-scale sketch of a full bodied deer in black ink. Washes of earth toned watercolors not only subtly shaded his body and antlers, but burst and splattered and dripped outside of the lines and across the rest of the canvas in gorgeous melts of greens and tans and yellows. Pink flowers of a similar style adored the antlers, which had grown large and wide.

The plaque was mounted to the left: Julia E. Fletcher, _Untitled No. 9_

"Holy shit, that's _massive_ ," was Dustin's first impression.

"Thank you," they heard Julie giggle from not too far away. Sure enough when they turned their heads to look, she and her brother were well within earshot. "That was the goal."

"He's life sized," her brother boasted for her as the two inched closer to Dustin and Max.

Dustin's eyes bounced back and forth between Julie and her painting a few times, clearly impressed by not just it's realistic proportion, but the artistry behind it. "How? How did you do that?"

At that, her brows pulled together skeptically. "You really wanna know?" He nodded, and she studied his face for another moment before looking to her piece. "Um, well it's hard to find canvases this big, so the first thing I had to do was make my own..."

"Oh, of course." Dustin agreed, sarcastically feigning extensive knowledge on the topic. "As one does."

"Of course," she played along, lacing her voice with equal amounts of humor. She giggled and even Max had to admit that it was endearing.

Clearly Dustin realized this, too. He chuckled along with her and looked down to his feet as they shuffled in place like a little kid. God, he already had it bad.

Max could not help but notice Julie's feet, too. Even in the fancy dress, she wore a beat up pair of black Chuck Taylors, which was a choice the redhead could wholeheartedly appreciate.

Julie continued on, animatedly describing her creative process; miming through the motions with her hands and frequently glancing back and forth between her piece, for reference, and Dustin, to gauge his reaction. They paused often to laugh at each others jokes, no matter how bad.

Max was right. He was being himself and it was somehow working just fine. She walked away, rejoining Lucas who had migrated over to Will, and Dustin never even noticed she was gone.

"Did he fire you, too?" Lucas asked, slipping an arm around Max's waist.

"No," she told him with a smile in her voice. "He's doing really well on his own, actually."

"Wait," interjected Will. "He really is hitting on Julie?"

Max nodded her confirmation. "Is she from Hawkins?"

"Originally, yeah. Her and her brother moved to Ameswood a few years ago when their mom passed. Which isn't far at all, but for some reason we haven't seen them since."

Max nodded and they all turned to watch Dustin talk so effortlessly to a girl who was probably way too hot for him about a subject he did not entirely care about.

"Do you think he has a shot?" Lucas asked.

Will shrugged, then thought about it for a moment. "Huh... You know what? He actually might..."

Later on that night, they discovered that he definitely did.

Max's earlier threat was serious. Now that the night was coming to an end and Dustin had yet to make any real moves, Max was on a mission. She and Lucas tried to be causal in cornering Julie at the very last minute. "Hey," they greeted as nonchalantly as they could.

"Hi," she said with a soft smile. If she suspected they were up to something, she did not show any sign of it.

"So, uh… Dustin…" Lucas started uncomfortably, causing a crease to from between Julie's brows.

"Dustin might die if you don't give him your phone number," Max cut to the chase.

"It doesn't even have to be a real number," added Lucas awkwardly. "Just... spare him."

"Did he send you over to be his wingman or something?" she asked Lucas, voice thick with laughter. "Because that was kinda awful."

Max rolled her eyes in agreement. "That was a whole 'nother conversation. Dustin fired him earlier."

"Sounds entertaining. Sorry I missed it," she told them with a smirk, shrugging into her coat. "Do you have a pen?"

Lucas, always prepared, pulled a pen out of one of the pockets of his jacket. Julie took it with a thank you before she floated off to find Dustin, who hadn't gone too far.

Lucas and Max could not make out what she was saying as she wrote on the back of his hand, though they could see that she was talking to him. After she was done, she capped the pen and handed it to Dustin before pointing in the direction of his two friends.

When he looked over to them, Lucas waved and Max gave a thumbs up, but the two were met with Dustin's death glare in return.

In fact, he was so busy throwing them a dirty look that he did not even see it coming when Julie kissed his cheek. She was just about his height, which made it easy. He looked to her when she pulled away, his expression equal parts stunned, confused, and mesmerized. Like he though he might be dreaming. She smiled at him, almost bashfully, before disappearing from the gala with her brother.

As soon as she was gone, Dustin laced his fingers together over the top of his head. He turned to his friends with wide eyes that read, ' _Did you see that?!'_

"God, he's already got it bad," Lucas mumbled to Max, echoing her earlier thoughts.

The two considered it a job well done, especially since they had barely done anything this time around, which was their first sign of many that Dustin and Julie were right for each other.

Dustin and the party would come to find that, much like Max and El, Julie was not typically the skirts and heels type. They would see her in a dress again, but it would not be for another few years.


	10. Your Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You have a place in my heart no one else could ever have."  
> -F. Scott Fitzgerald

_JUNE 1985_

Lucas, Max, and Will sat on the sidelines of the Wheeler's basement while Dustin and Mike broke out into an full-on argument.

"Why do you get to see her and we don't?" Dustin interrogated.

"I dunno, maybe because I rescued her from the woods and she lived in my basement for a week?" sassed Mike.

Dustin threw his hands in the air, eyes wide. "We rescued her, too!"

"You didn't even like her at first!"

Max and Will exchanged a glance, feeling left out in the best way possible.

"I'm pretty sure that was Lucas."

"You asked if she had cancer, then compared her to Michael Myers."

Max snorted. Lucas stifled a chuckle at the memory.

"She didn't have hair!" Dustin defended. "And Lucas had me freaked with all that talk about psych wards."

"Either way," Mike backtracked. "That's not the point."

"Yeah," Dustin bitterly agreed. "The point is that _you_ get to see her all the time, and we don't."

Which was true. El was back in hiding, but it did not take too long for Hopper's new and adolescent daughter to drive him mad enough to allow Mike, and only Mike, occasional visitation rights. Anyone else was a risk that the chief was not yet willing to take.

However, it was a decision that weighed heavily on Dustin and Lucas, who had silently mourned and missed their friend, too.

"I _barely_ see her."

"Still. Barely is a hell of a lot more than never."

"Whatever, Dustin. I'm not about to apologize for saying yes when Hopper asks."

Dustin opened his mouth to retort, but Will was the one who spoke next. "He has a point, Dustin. If you wanna see El, you should be talking to Hop."

After letting the words sink in, Dustin sighed and turned to Lucas. "Help me out here?"

Lucas made a face. "With what? Will's right. I don't want to wait 'til December, either, but there's nothing we can do about it, man. Not unless you wanna have it out with the chief."

Dustin's face fell. "And here I thought I was your best friend."

"Max is my best friend," Lucas deadpanned with a playful smirk.

It was an obvious echo of Dustin, who lately liked to huff and say " _Whatever._ _Steve's my new best friend, anyway_."

"No, Max is your _girlfriend_ ," was Dustin's great comeback.

But the joke did not have the same effect as it used to. This time, neither of them rolled their eyes or tried to deny it like they had in the past.

Instead, Max simply said, "Exactly."

And even though her tone was lighthearted, the word alone caused silence to fall over the four boys.

"She misses you guys, too," Mike tried in a softer voice, shifting the conversation back to the original subject after a beat. "Hopper just thinks it's too dangerous."

…

That night, even though she had her skateboard and he lived only three houses down from Mike, Lucas walked his best friend to the end of her street.

They wore their hoods up in defense against the light drizzle of rain and bumped shoulders as they strolled and spoke of normal things. As if she had not just announced to the whole party - or for the first time in general - that she was, in fact, Lucas' girlfriend.

It was never something they had discussed, because they never had to. In a way, they both just knew.

Hell, it seemed like everyone just knew. Maybe even before they did.

Because it always seemed to be Lucas and Max. Max and Lucas. Hardly ever one without the other.

So they walked like it was any normal night. Because it was.

The only thing that had really changed was that someone had replaced the bulb of the lamppost on the corner of Old Cherry and Park, so it no longer flickered.

"Night, stalker."

"Night, MadMax."

Her hood fell down when she tilted her head up to kiss him, but she did not bother to fix it.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Cool."

"Cool."

Then he kissed her a second time. Then a third. Then she giggled against his mouth at the fourth.

"Okay, bye for real." she said as she pulled away, first from the kiss and then from him.

"Night," he said again.

And then she was gone. She took a short running start, dragging the tail of her new board - the one her mom had gotten her for her birthday after Billy smashed the Madrid - for a few feet before dropping it and jumping on in one fluid motion.

It was not until Lucas turned around and headed back in the direction of his own house that the events of the night hit him. Actually hit him.

He had thought of Max as his girlfriend for a while now, but that was just in his own head.

And now it was official. Now the universe knew it, too.

His face spread into a wide grin as he walked with his chin high, feeling unstoppable. Like he was on top of the world. Like the blood in his veins had been replaced with liquid gold.

…

_MAY 1987_

The thought had been nagging at the back of Will's mind for as long as he could remember. The idea that something about him was off. Different. Wrong.

The truth had been gnawing at him ever since Jennifer Hayes had kissed him two Valentines Days back. But ever since a few weeks ago, when Lucas and Max threw caution to the wind and decided to openly love who they wanted to love regardless of what anyone else thought, Will's secret was eating him alive.

Jonathan was the only one who knew, though Will suspected he had let it slip to Nancy. Will had told his brother as soon as the Great Jennifer Hayes Catastrophe occurred. He just had not been able to keep it a secret any longer.

But now Jonathan was at school in New York and Will desperately needed someone he could talk to. Once again, he found himself struggling to keep his truth hidden.

And going through old comics in the Sinclair kitchen with the two friends he trusted more than anyone to understand seemed as good a time as any to drop the bomb.

Lucas was in the middle of giving Max the abridged version of X-Men 134. She nodded along, trying her best to keep up. Will knew he should feel like a lousy third wheel around them, but somehow he never did. After months of careful observation, he had come to this conclusion:

Above all else, Lucas and Max were best friends. They liked kissing and hand holding just as much as the next couple, but even more than that they genuinely enjoyed just spending all of their time together.

Seems pretty simple, right? After further inspection, Will had come to realize that it was anything but.

Everyone else was so quick to jump into relationships without first realizing the difference between attraction and connection. Most people tried again and again with the former, only to eventually stumble across the latter and label the new discovery 'forever.'

Lucas and Max, however, had managed to find both on their first shot. Mutually. In middle school, no less. It seemed most people go their whole lives without experiencing such a phenomenon, meanwhile they had found it so young.

It was a dynamic Will greatly admired. One he had tried to depict in their portraits countless times, but his hands could never seem to translate to the paper quite right.

He hoped to capture it one day, but even more so he hoped to one day find a mutual attraction and connection of his own. A best friend whose unconditional love was an added bonus.

And the more he observed the two, the more the thoughts of his secret began bouncing ceaselessly around in his mind. The anxiety of it all filled his heart to the brim, making it beat faster and faster. _They'll understand,_ he assured himself. _Of all people, they'll understand. They have to. They know what it's like to love someone the world tells them they shouldn't._

The secret in Will's heart overflowed, flooding his chest. As the words bubbled up his throat, the sudden doubt set in. _What if they don't?_ he thought. _What if they think I'm a freak?_

But the words that echoed through his mind next - Jonathan's - gave Will the small boost of life-altering courage that he needed: You _are a freak._ _I'm serious, you're a freak. But what, do you wanna be normal? Do you wanna be just like everyone else?_

"And then Cyclops runs into Wolverine," Lucas explained to Max. "Tells him to gather everyone while he -"

"I'm gay," Will finally blurted. Silence fell over the bunch as his friends both looked to him, not sure if they had heard him correctly. Will did not know what else to do so he just kept going. "I'm gay and I've known for a while, but I've never told anyone except Jonathan because I'm scared."

His friends blinked at him a few times, just like his brother had when he found out, taking in the new and abrupt information. A moment passed long enough for Will's dread began seeping in. Suddenly, he wished the sky would swallow him whole.

"You don't need to be scared," assured Lucas, a supportive smile breaking over his mouth. "We know."

"You do?" Will asked hopefully, looking between the two as the entire weight of the world released itself from his narrow shoulders. He had not realized he had been holding his breath for the past year and three months until air hit his lungs again.

"Yeah," Max shrugged. "I kinda guessed it when you were so freaked out about Jennifer."

Will's eyes continued to bounce between them. "You never said anything…"

Lucas shrugged. "It wasn't our place to say anything. We knew you weren't ready to admit it."

"Besides," Max added. "It doesn't really change anything. You're still Will."

Will had felt this overwhelming sense relief three times in his short life: The first after waking up in the hospital rather than the Upside Down. The second the moment he finally caught his breath after the Shadow Monster was exorcised from his system, when his body was entirely his own again. The third in Jonathan's half-hour long hug when he found out, not needing to say anything for Will to know he was accepted.

He made a mental note to add this one to the list, too.

"Yeah," Will beamed, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. "I'm still me."

…

_JULY 1987_

El and Mike called it off again, even though it seemed they were never officially 'on' or fully 'off.' It was obvious that this separation would not last long, but it did not stop El from being upset about it.

To cheer her up, Max decided to take her to the drive-in theater in Ameswood, the next town over. Lucas, of course, came along since he and his girlfriend were all but attached at the hip, and also because he was still the only party member with both his license and access to a car. After hearing of his friends' plans, Dustin decided to tag along, too, since he had been wanting to see the latest zombie thriller for a while.

And so the four of them found themselves smushed together on the hood of Lucas' mom's Impala, shoulder to shoulder with Lucas and Max in the middle and El and Dustin on either side. Together they watched the dead rise on the massive projector screen across the sea of chrome cars gleaming in the moonlight.

The movie turned out to be awful, much to Dustin's disappointment. The plot was predictable, the acting bad, and the special effects were even worse, but halfway through it sparked a debate over how the party would break up into teams if the zombies took over Hawkins.

Everyone wanted El on their team for obvious reasons. But once they all decided that, for arguments sake, she would not have powers in this post apocalyptic hypothetical, the fighting quickly shifted over to Lucas.

Out of everyone, they decided, he would be the one to survive, even after he swore up and down that the black guy was always the first to die. His boy scout experience had him well trained in survival, whether it was starting a fire, foraging for food, or following the directions of the stars. Then, of course, there was his impeccable aim, whether it be with a baseball or a Wrist Rocket, that would prove itself useful in taking down zombies. Not to mention, he had read all of those old _Tales of the Crypt_ comics and subsequently knew a thing or two about all different sorts of the undead.

Max and Dustin and El all decided that they needed him as an asset to their survival team.

"Screw you guys!" Max exclaimed trough the bickering. "Lucas is mine."

Lucas chuckled, but Dustin spoke next. "No, no, no. Just because he's your boyfriend doesn't mean you get him on your team."

"What if we split up girls versus boys? Me and Max, Lucas and Dustin?" El offered.

"That's exactly my point, guys," Max tried to explain. "Someone's gotta repopulate after all that shit blows over, and God knows that's not gonna happen unless me and Lucas are a team."

Dustin made a face as if he had eaten something sour. "Oh, my God. _Ew._ "

"Lucas, you pick," suggested El. "Whose team do you wanna be on?"

"Max makes a good point," Lucas said as he squeezed the hand he held in Max's lap. She beamed victoriously. "Besides, you guys never listen to what I say, which would get us killed. _And_ neither of you have the best track record when it comes to being civil with her when the world's about to end."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" asked Dustin, a slightly offended by the remark.

Max rolled her eyes at the obvious. "He means you basically told me to fuck off and go home, and El, you blatantly ignored me."

El frowned. It had not been her proudest moment.

"That was _so_ long ago," Dustin defended. "And I was just mad 'cause you liked Lucas better than me. But now it's fine 'cause we're best friends."

"Wrong. Lucas is my best friend," Max was quick to correct. "And I'll always like him better than you."

"That's why I'm on her team," Lucas added.

Dustin ignored the comment. "How many times do we have to go through this? Your boyfriend can't be your best friend. It's weird and wrong."

"You're just jealous," Max and Lucas teased at the same time.

Dustin threw his hands up exasperatedly. "This is exactly what I mean! You spend _way_ too much time together. El, tell me I'm not the only one who sees this."

El just laughed, happy to have friends who could lift her spirit so easily, and allowed a few beats to pass before shifting the subject back. "Dustin, me and you should claim Will while we still can. He's good at hiding _and_ he already survived the Upside Down."

Dustin scoffed humorously. "Yeah, and you two can take Mike. Good luck getting him to listen..."

…

_NOVEMBER 2005_

"Uncle Lucas?" Franklin asked from his spot in Lucas' lap, craning his neck to look at his uncle's face. "Who's your best friend? And don't say me!"

Lucas feigned deep thought, humming and narrowing his eyes and scratching at his chin to amuse the four year old. It worked easily, sending little Franklin into a fit of chuckles.

When the short burst of laughter subsided, Lucas pointed his nephew in the direction Max, who stood across the room making conversation with the two-year-old boy in Erica's arms. "Her."

" _Mom_?" Franklin asked incredulously.

"No, silly," Lucas chuckled, lightly tickling the boys's sides, causing even more writhing and squealing laughter. "Max."


	11. Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was brave, she was strong, and she was broken all at once."  
> -Anna Funder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains examples of domestic abuse and violence. Please mind your triggers.
> 
> This chapter is the first of five parts. Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy!

PART ONE / _NOVEMBER 1987_

Her heart beat rapidly in time with the pound of her feet against the pavement.

She ran without knowing where her legs were taking her, but she trusted them with her life to get her there. She found herself frequently checking over her shoulder to see if he was behind her, even though it slowed her down.

He never was.

She assumed she had his blood alcohol level to thank for that. He was drunk. Half-stumbling. Completely enraged.

Meanwhile, she was dead sober and terrified enough to run faster than she had ever thought physically possible.

But to where?

She considered Lucas, but the part of her brain that was still functioning properly shut down such a stupid idea. It reminded her that they had been in a fight just few hours ago, though it felt more like a lifetime and she could no longer recall what it had been about.

Either way, it did not matter. She found herself at Steve Harrington's place on the opposite end Hawkins, but did not have the chance to stop and ponder lost time or logistics. Instead she was focused on the frantic pounding of her fist against his door and trying not to throw up when she realized he might not be home.

Shit, shit, shit. What time was it now, anyways?

The still functioning part of her brain reminded her that Steve was stupid and never locked his apartment. She twisted the cold, metallic knob and the door swung open easily, just in time to reveal Steve as he stepped into the hall, looking groggy and confused, though his demeanor was quick to do a one-eighty as he took her in.

Suddenly, he was wide awake, wildly concerned, and rushing the rest of the way to her. "Max?"

She had not realized she was crying until a sob ripped through her throat at the sound his voice. A voice that belonged to the guy she had known to be a protector since that first day in the junkyard. "Help me."

…

"Lucas!" He was shaken awake by his mother; his first red flag to something being wrong.

His second came soon after, noting that it was still dark when he looked to the window. What time was it?

"Lucas, Steve's on the phone. Says it's about Max."

Lucas' brain was too fogged down with exhaustion to fully process his mother's words, but the mention of her name reminded him vaguely of the fight they had, and how he was in no condition to talk to her (or anyone) about it (or anything).

He figured it would be best to wait until tomorrow and then follow his dad's advice: _"First, I apologize. Then, I get your mother whatever she wants."_

"Take a message," he grumbled, attempting to roll over onto his stomach. His mom caught his arm before he could.

"He says it's important," she told him, Steve's urgency echoing in her own tone. "Something about Billy…"

Max. Steve. Billy. Important.

It was enough to take Lucas from zero to one hundred. From laying half-dead in his bed to standing alive, alert, awake and in the hall in record time.

The phone receiver swung ominously from the wall-mounted base. Lucas scrambled to get it into his hands and up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Lucas," came Steve from the other end. Immediately, there was something off in his voice. "I don't know what to do, man, and I didn't know who else to call. It's Max and… She's bad. Really bad. She doesn't want her parents to know, won't let me call Hop, either. But maybe if you came and talked to her, you could get her to -"

"Steve! Steve," Lucas cut him off. "Slow down. What happened?"

A pause on the other end. Then, "I… I don't know exactly. How soon can you get here?"

…

Needless to say, he booked his way to Steve Harrington's, who was at the door before Lucas had the chance to knock.

"Where is she?" Lucas asked, skipping casualties and shoving his way inside.

Steve locked the door behind them. "Spare room."

They made their way down the short hall, the younger boy taking the lead. He stopped short in the doorframe when he saw her.

Max. His Max. On the end of the twin sized bed in the dimly lit room, chin resting on her knees as she had pulled them to her chest. Her hair was tossed up messily and a blanket cloaked her shoulders while tears stained her cheeks.

Her swollen eyes flickered to Lucas when he approached, but they were distant and empty.

For the first time, she looked small and weak and entirely helpless. A mere shell of the spitfire girl that she had been only a few hours ago.

Lucas' heart would have broken for her on the spot if his desperate need to make things right had not taken over every cell in his body.

She studied his expression but would not meet his gaze, then turned her face to her knees as a fresh wave of sobs began to shake her shoulders.

"Max," Lucas whispered, sitting down next to her.

He reached out and she recoiled immediately, shrinking further into herself.

The severity of it all hit him where it hurt. Billy had broken her completely.

"Max," Steve began from the doorway. He had a softness in his tone that Lucas was not sure he had ever heard before. "You can stay here tonight and I won't tell Hop or your mom or anyone, but you gotta tell us what's going on."

A pause. Then Max's shaky inhale. She lifted her head, staring off distantly at the ground.

"He tried to kill me," she laid out bluntly in a voice that did not sound like her own. A voice that was little and hoarse and dissociated.

"What?" Lucas heard himself breathe.

For the first time since he got there, Max looked him in the eye. Beneath the clear blue, Lucas could see every last ounce of pain and fear and honesty in her admission.

A beat passed before pulled herself to her feet, letting her blanket drop to the floor. She moved past Steve and Lucas, who were quick to follow her to the bathroom.

She flicked on the lights and turned to the mirror, lifting her chin to study the bruises that had already started sprouting over her neck.

When she tilted her head the right way, it was fairly easy to make out the long shapes of fingers as they began to form the shadow of a large handprint across her throat.

The blood drained from Lucas' face. His entire body, even. And he swore the world stopped spinning, needing to grab onto the counter for support.

She turned her head away from the mirror, unable to look any longer. "I'm sorry about the fight."

"Fight?" Steve asked from the doorframe.

…

It all happened like this:

Will had been invited to Jennifer Hayes' Halloween party. So, by default, the whole party had been invited to Jennifer Hayes' Halloween party.

It was a dumb idea. None of them should have ever gone. El hated the loud noises and the large crowds and the unfamiliar faces, and Mike had spent the whole night trying to keep her calm. Will kept getting hit on by girls he had no interest in and Dustin got too drunk for his own good. As for Lucas and Max, they got into an argument.

The times they fought were few and far between, but when they did it was heated and nasty and always about something entirely irrelevant.

This time it was Tracey Harmon. A stunner of a senior who, ever since Lucas had taken up baseball last spring, had been looking at him in a way that Max was less than approving of.

Not only was she jealous, but she was irritated that Tracey Harmon had the power to make her jealous. That everything about Lucas turned Max into such a girl.

So she took it out on him, arguing about it in the upstairs bathroom then and there. Eventually Max, entirely fed up, left. She walked home, half expecting Lucas to follow. He, just as pissed off and stubborn, never did.

Her mom and Neil were out of town for the weekend, doing God knows what, so for a while she was home alone.

Until Billy came. And he was pissed, too.

At what, she did not know. Ever since he had flunked out of college, ran out of money, and had no other choice but to move home, he was more short tempered than ever before. And angry. All the time.

But this time, Billy was drunk and Max was just as mad.

So they went at each other's throats until it became literal.

Her pinned to the bed. His weight holding her down. His hand. Her neck. Her gasping. His sick satisfaction. The life nearly out of her.

And all she could think about was how just two years ago - in different world, it seemed - Billy had been too terrified of his father to do anything more than threaten his violence.

But things had changed. And Max was fading fast because of it.

Just as her vision began spotting with black, she saw a flash of sobriety behind her stepbrother's eyes. As if he had remembered Neil's wrath, too. He released her with a threat, leaving her to choke on the new air as it hit her aching throat and her raw but grateful lungs.

She bolted as soon as her body would let her, and her legs did not let her down. Not until Steve pulled her inside and her shaky knees gave out in his front hall.

…

She told them her story and the boys were speechless as everything hit them at once.

Eventually, Steve was the first one to speak. "You're not safe here, Max." In Hawkins, he meant, let alone his apartment, for as long as she was not willing to talk to Hopper.

"I know." Better than anyone.

Getting Billy's ass arrested would seem like the logical solution, but Max knew that without Billy around, Neil would have no other choice but to redirect his anger. It would put Max and her mother at even more of a risk.

"Where can you go?" asked Lucas, desperate to protect the girl he loved. His heart already hurt and guilt already settled deep into his bones. If only he had not let her walk away. If only he had not enabled the fight, or gone to the party, or joined the fucking baseball team. If only he had been there…

An idea flashed over Max's face but she was quick to shake it out of her head.

"What?" Lucas asked.

"Nothing," she told him. "It's stupid."

At this point, her life was on the line. Any idea should at least be considered.

But as Lucas racked his brain, the answer came to him on its own. "Your dad?"

Max nodded as if her head were too heavy for her neck. "Like I said. Stupid."

And at first it might have been, but the more Lucas thought about it, the better the idea was. Her dad was someone who she loved and trusted. Someone she felt safe with. A family she could run off to that was far, far away from here. From Billy.

Best of all, they were young and naive enough to do it.

"No," he told her. "It's damn near perfect."

…

It was five in the morning when Max hugged Steve an eternal thank you and an indefinite goodbye, just before Lucas drove her back to his house. The rest of the word was about to wake up into a new day, but they had yet to sleep.

She sat low in the front seat of his mom's car with her hood up, afraid to be seen. When they pulled into his driveway, she sprinted toward the safety and cover of his house.

They entered quietly, not wanting to wake his family as they snuck up to his bedroom. He shut the door softly behind them before his frantic rush began.

Pulling open his closet, he grabbed an old duffel bag; one he had used for camping back when he was a cub scout. He grabbed clothes at random, shoving them in, then looked back to Max - still in sleep shorts, a t-shirt, and one of Steve's hoodies as she inspected the fresh bruises of her wrists - and stuffed in more for her. He packed his camouflage bandana out of habit and threw in some of the snacks he hid from Erica in his bedside drawer. After collecting as much cash as he could find, he headed for the bathroom, grabbing anything they might need from there, too.

The first floor was last, though there was not much else that he could think of except to scribble down a note to his parents.

Once it was clung to the fridge with a magnet, he turned to Max. "Ready?"

A slight nod. She still looked so small.

When he reached for her this time, she did not flinch away. Instead, she allowed herself to be gathered into a hug.

"I won't let anyone hurt you again, Max," he whispered into her hair. She nodded against his chest.

Though he wished he could have held her like that forever, he had to let go. They needed to get far away from Hawkins as fast as they could.

Grabbing his mom's keys from the counter and taking Max's hand in his own, Lucas headed for the front door.

But they could not get out that easy.

"Lucas?" his father's voice called, accompanied by his footsteps on the stairs.

Lucas and Max stopped dead in their tracks for an obstacle they probably should have been expecting. Now he could not get out without first going through his father. Great.

The man at the foot of the stairs eyed his son, a few feet away with a full duffel bag and stolen keys, gripping on tight to the hand of his girlfriend, who - uncharacteristically enough - kept her head down.

"And where do you think you're off to?" Arnell asked his son.

Lucas swallowed the growing lump in his throat. There was no point in lying, so he told his father, "California."

Mr. Sinclair's eyebrows flew up his forehead. "California?"

Lucas nodded. Arnell's eyes flickered to Max.

"Something happened," Lucas vaguely elaborated. "And I… I need to make her safe."

Mr. Sinclair took in what he could of the information, studying his son's expression and trying to figure out how two and two could make five, not yet factoring in her family dynamic. "And she's not safe here?"

"No," Max spoke this time, her voice still hoarse.

It was just one word with so much meaning behind its stone-cold serious tone. Lucas could practically see things click together in his father's mind, the equation finally adding up. He nodded slowly. "Okay," he said, possibly to himself. "Okay."

"Okay?" Lucas asked.

"Wait here," his father instructed. And so they did.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Lucas held Max close.

His father returned after not too long, exchanging Lucas' keys for a different set. "Volkswagen's better on gas." Next, he held his credit card out to Lucas. "Keep. Her. Safe. Yes?"

Lucas was floored to say the least. He thought he was going to have to fight tooth and nail to convince his father to let him drive across the country with his girlfriend, only to discover that his dad was willing to sponsor the damn thing. It all felt a little too easy. "Dad -"

"I trust you, son. Just promise you'll call your mother the second you find a payphone."

Lucas looked to Max, and then his father before taking the card. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Arnell warned. Lucas was not too sure what he meant, but he did not have the time to figure it out now.

Lucas briefly hugged his father before Max did, giving him the same solemn and indefinite goodbye she had given Steve.

And then they were off. Neither realized it then, but their clock started counting down as soon as they closed the door behind them.


	12. Someday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And for once bravery looked a lot like running away."  
> -Kat Savage

PART II / _NOVEMBER 1987_

They crossed the state boarder into Illinois before they stopped for gas. It was there that they bought snacks and a scarf and road maps for every state along the way. They spent the night in Iowa before getting lost on their way through Nebraska. They stayed over in Wyoming before heading to Utah, where they took a break from driving and spent the day exploring Salt Lake City. Nevada was the last stop before they crossed the border into California. From there it was a three hour straight shot to Newmont, a small coastal town just a half hour outside of San Francisco.

Lucas pulled over as soon as he got off the highway. Max took over driving so that she did not have to shout directions at him, and he admired the way she still knew the town like the back of her hand.

To him, all of this was new territory that had yet to be explored. To Max, it was where she had grown up. As she drove, Lucas could not help but wonder what her favorite streets were to skate down, where exactly had she hung out, and whether or not she knew the occupants of any of the houses.

He opened his mouth to ask her these things, but she was cutting him off before he could even speak.

"Look, look!" she exclaimed excitedly, pointing out of her drivers side window.

She tried to watch the beach as she drove past it, continuously glancing between it and the road ahead of her.

Lucas had never seen the ocean before, but he found it hard to admire the waves as they collapsed against the sand when Max was smiling, truly smiling, for the first time in far too long. So wide and brilliant and beautiful that her dimples sunk back into her cheeks.

She cracked the window and let the sea breeze and salty air fill the car, and Lucas noticed how her hair had already started forming into curls as it so often did during Indiana summers. It reminded him of the first time he ever promised to take her back. " _Fine,_ " she had huffed. " _Someday we will go to California, maybe._ "

Certainly, he had never imagined it would be under these circumstances, but nevertheless, they had found their way there.

Max looked to him, trying to make sure he was enjoying it as much as she was. He smiled right back at her as her hand found his own. She was remembering, too.

Lucas was not stupid. He knew that while his dad was being oddly cool about the whole situation, his mom was furious and wildly concerned. Eventually, he would have to go home and leave Max behind, so he tried as best as he could to commit the moment to memory.

…

It was a quarter to four when they pulled up at her dad's house. Anticlimactically, he was not even home.

"Figures," shrugged Max. "It's Thursday, he's probably still working."

So they went to get food while they waited. Max brought Lucas into the town's center, a quaint square of weathered wood buildings and pastel painted storefronts. They went into a small burger joint that Max had said she had frequented with her parents back when the three were still a fat, young, and happy family.

It was a quiet restaurant with a subtle '50s theme. Tiny, too, with just a counter and a handful of booths. There were a group of college-aged kids eating in one corner, and two employees on the job. The small Asian guy manning the counter was laughing with the large old man working the grill, not paying much attention at all as Max and Lucas approached.

Max was not paying too much attention, either. Instead she was fiddling with the blue scarf around her neck and yanking her sleeves down to her palms, ensuring all of the purple bruising was properly covered.

The grill guy looked to the counter guy and jerked his chin in the direction of Lucas and Max. When the counter guy turned to greet them, his entire demeanor shifted. The light chuckle in his voice suddenly ceasing, his smile faltering, and his amused eyes widening. "No shit," he muttered to himself.

Max looked up then, and her eyes went round, too. "JJ!" she exclaimed, and then her entire face lit up at once, just as it had when she saw the beach. "I didn't know you worked here."

"Shit, Maxie!" repeated JJ before quite literally jumping over the counter to pull Max into a tight hug.

"You got tall," was all she could think to say, even though she and her friend were pretty much on par in height.

Knowing this, JJ gave a short laugh. "It's called puberty. What the hell are you doing here?"

She opened her mouth to provide her first excuse of many, but he was already cutting her off. "Doesn't matter. You're here," he pulled away and took her by the shoulders, looking her square in the eye. "Why didn't you tell me you were here?"

"We just got here. Literally, like, twenty minutes ago."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I wasn't sure I actually was, so I didn't want to tell you and then end up not being able to make it," she lied smoothly.

He more than approved of this excuse. He absolutely beamed at her.

"This is Lucas," she told him, needing to say nothing more. JJ had already heard it all.

JJ's smile widened, further elevating his full cheekbones. "Lucas the renowned! Heard a lot about you, man." He shook Lucas' hand with both of his own, winking at Max, who gave him her best eye roll in return.

"J!" his coworker snapped from the grill. "Get back to work or take your fifteen."

"Alright, alright," he huffed, walking back around to the other side of the counter.

"Down to just one 'J' now?" asked Max.

JJ gave a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand. "Adults. They suck the fun out of everything. Ya know?" He picked up the pad of paper and pen sitting by the register. "Anyways, what do you guys want? It's on me."

…

After Max and JJ had caught up and made beach plans for the three of them plus Max's so called replacement, Chase, she and Lucas headed back to her dad's.

He was home this time, and greeted the pair with open arms. It was then that Lucas knew exactly where she had gotten damn near everything from. Sure, she had her mother's red hair, but her and her father shared the same face, no-bullshit attitude, and dry sense of humor.

She told her dad everything. Then they laughed and cried while they caught up and reminisced.

He told them that they could stay as long as they would like. Both of them.

…

JJ skipped school the next day to hang out with his old best friend. JJ's new best friend, Chase, tagged along.

As promised, they went down to the beach, just a ten minute drive from her dad's place. To Lucas, the November weather was more than beautiful, but evidently the native Californians did not agree. The place was practically barren, leaving an entire stretch of sand and sun just for them.

The ocean was as pretty as Lucas had imagined, but Max was more beautiful than ever. Of course he always found her beautiful, but he had never seen her in her element before. He had never seen her look more at home. He had never seen the way her fiery waves tangled in the ocean breeze, or the way her bright blue eyes sparkled in the California sun, or the way she lead him at full speed toward the water, like she was made to be going fast.

The waves crashed over their feet, coating them in a light mist, before retreating back into the sea. Somewhere out in the sky, the moon was pulling the tides in one direction or another just as Lucas was pulling Max into him.

He took both of her cheeks in his hands when he kissed her, and it was a promise that they had known each other long enough to understand. _This is not the end_.

They let it linger, making it last and memorizing the moment.

That was until JJ and Chase began cheering not too far away. "Whoo! Get it!" JJ shouted.

Max's laughter broke the kiss but tasted sweet in Lucas' mouth.

…

JJ was eager to show Max some of the skate ticks he had learned over the last few years, so she and Lucas took to the boardwalk with JJ, Chase, and their skateboards.

Lucas, of course, did not know how to skateboard, so the day eventually turned into Max hanging back with him while JJ and Chase continuously tried to one up each other with different series of tricks. They watched on eagerly as JJ attempted to land his grind across a nearby bench with a 180 degree kick flip.

Sure enough, he landed it perfectly, but was so full of excitement for himself that he stumbled off his board soon after.

"Whoa, man!" Chase cheered as he, Max, and Lucas caught back up with their friend. "That shit was tubular."

Immediately, Lucas and Max's eyes darted to meet each others, the same question written all over both of their expressions: _Did you just hear that?_

A beat passed before they both erupted into the biggest fit of laughter. The doubled over, clutched stomach, and teary eyes kind. The good and loud and unapologetic kind. The " _h_ _e_ _lp, I can't breathe"_ and " _e_ _veryone is staring but we couldn't care less because Chase_ _actually just used the word 'tubular'"_ kind.

"You okay over there?" JJ asked, but Lucas and Max could only respond by laughing harder, too far lost in the nostalgia of the first joke they ever shared.

_"You're, like, totally tubular."_

_"No one actually says that, you know."_

Well apparently Chase did, and after years of back and fourth banter on the issue, Lucas and Max could not believe it. Every time one of them began to calm down, they would make eye contact with the other and the laughter would start up all over again.

And for the rest of the day, and even through the next, it would only take one of them to say the word "tubular" for the residual giggles to kick in.

They figured they looked insane to everyone else, but as long as they had each other nothing else mattered.

...

Lucas and Max had never realized how forever changed they were until they were in the company of different friends. Ones who did not understand; never could and never would.

"Flinch much, Maxie?" JJ had teased when she practically jumped out of her skin at the all too familiar rev of a Camaro's engine.

"You alright, man?" JJ had asked after the lights flickered and Lucas' breath hitched audibly.

"What?" JJ had questioned when Lucas and Max both stopped short and wide-eyed in the path of the slimy, lizard-like creature. "Do they not have salamanders in Indiana?"

"The midwest is crazy weird, man," Chase would offer. And they would leave it at that.

...

Max's bruises had begun to green. One afternoon as she and Lucas sat on her father's front porch - watching the setting sun and listening to the crashing waves - she could not stop staring at the marks encincling her wrists.

"They'll heal soon," Lucas reminded her.

Max scoffed. "Not soon enough."

That was an understatement. Lucas knew they should not have been there at all, but he did not bother to tell her what she already knew. Instead, he reached out and swept long copper waves of her hair over her shoulder. Leaning in, he planted a light kiss to the healing skin of her neck. Then a second. Then a third.

Max laughed. "Are you trying to kiss it better?"

"Maybe." He smirked against her skin.

"You know that's not how it works, right?" she teased with a voice full of humor.

Lucas shrugged and reached for her hand. "It's still worth a shot."

Lifting her wrist to his lips, he began repeating the process. For a while, Max just sat and watched.

"You're the lamest person I know," she told him when he finished with the first wrist, reaching for the second.

He brushed his lips just below the heel of her hand. "I love you, too, Max."

"I'll always love you, stalker," she told him because she meant it; now more than ever before. She just hoped it was something he never forgot, especially with the thousands of miles of distance that was to inevitably come.


	13. Split

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Even if you know what's coming, you're never prepared for how it feels."  
> -Natalie Staniford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains mild examples of period-typical racism and homophobia that are in NO WAY a reflection of my own beliefs. Please mind your triggers.

Part III / _APRIL 1980_

"Well," the doctor began, flicking on the light-up board and sliding the x-ray into place. "Bad news is that your arm's definitely broken."

Lucas nodded as the doctor pointed to the fracture line. With tears still staining his cheeks, he figured just as much.

"Good news is, it's a clean break. And those heal the fastest."

But pain was not always so simple.

…

_NOVEMBER 1987_

His mom wanted him home. Understandably so. But it killed him to leave Max behind.

_She's safe here,_ he constantly needed to remind himself, but that did not stop his heart from wanting to be selfish.

After a few perfect days in under the California sun, they had a long and tearful goodbye indefinitely.

_This is not the end,_ he kept reminding himself. But it definitely did not feel like some sort of grand new beginning, either.

"I love you," they told each other over and over, as if it were the only thing they had ever known to be true.

He tied his bandana around her wrist to borrow, knowing that someday he would see her again and get it back, because it was not over for them. But, holy fuck, did it hurt just the same.

…

He drove straight home. A thirty-two hour ride with no stopping for sleep. He could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her. But then again, he saw her everywhere.

She was in his passenger seat just before he turned his head to look. She was skating down every street just before he turned the corner. She was waiting in his room just before he opened the door.

She was anywhere and everywhere, but always just out of reach. No where was safe. And so he sobbed to his mom while his dad told him about how "proud" he was that his son had "done the right thing" and Erica said nothing for once.

…

School was the worst of it. On his first day back he beelined for her locker instinctively. But she was not there. She might never be again.

To make matters worse, he had friends. Ones who meant well but never knew when to shut up.

Dustin was the first to bombard him at his own locker. "Holy shit, Lucas. Are you okay? Where the hell have you been, man? We've been so worried about you. You realize you've been gone for, like, almost two weeks, right?"

He kept going. Lucas drowned him out as he walked to homeroom, where Will and Mike were already in their seats.

"Oh my God, Lucas," Will was up in an instant, enveloping his friend in a hug. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he answered automatically.

"And Max?"

"She's fine."

"Is she here?" Mike asked.

But Lucas pretended as if he had not heard. He was already moving to the back of the classroom, far away from where his friends typically sat, plopping himself into a seat in the back row by the window.

He was living in a haze. Like some sort of foggy nightmare that he might wake up from any minute. If he told his friends, it would all become reality.

…

He tried to unpack, but he got as far as pulling the road maps out of his bag before distracting himself with them.

He studied each of them intently, starting with Indiana and using his finger to trace the path they had taken over each of the states to the coastline of California. His eyes lingered over the details of last map for what could have been hours before he found himself folding up the American flag that had been hanging above his bed for years and tacking the Californian map up in its place. He was not entirely sure why he did it other than the fact that it just felt right.

He remembered learning everything he needed to know about maps back in cub scouts, and taking that knowledge and applying it to finding his way home by following the direction of the stars. That's when the map of Indiana caught his eye, and his heart knew that it was not his to keep.

…

On day five, a Monday, Mike found Lucas sitting under the stairwell at lunch.

He did not say anything or ask any questions. He just leaned back against the wall as he sat on the floor next to Lucas and let silence fall over them for the majority of the period, leaving Lucas alone with his thoughts.

"How did you do it?" Lucas suddenly blurted the moment he realized that, out of anyone else, Mike would understand. "When El was gone. Or even just hiding."

A beat passed. "Is Max really gone?"

I'm Lucas nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, she went home." He let out a shaky breath. "To California."

"And you went with her," Mike concluded. "That's where you were."

"I drove her, yeah. Saw the ocean and everything."

Mike studied Lucas, but Lucas could not meet his friend's eyes. "Did something happen?"

Lucas nodded again, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Billy," was the only explanation he could bring himself to give.

He did not allow himself to dwell on the details of Max's story. Lucas knew he should be grateful that she was safe and alive in California. And he was. But he should not have to be. Because Max should be here, or he should be there, or they should be anywhere, as long as they were safe and happy and together. Max should not have had to fight for her life in her own home. Or fight her evil stepbrother at all. Or fight her stupid boyfriend at an equally stupid high school party. It was too much and Lucas could not think about it, or else it would kill him. Though his chest already felt like it was caving in.

_"_ _Don't thank me yet,"_ his dad had told him just before Lucas and Max had taken off. Only now did Lucas understand what he had meant. He was nothing but hollow without her.

"I honestly don't know how I did it," Mike said finally. "I guess you just do what you have to do and talk to her when you can, 'cause you know she's still out there."

Lucas met Mike's eyes then, filled with not only comfort and concern for both Lucas and Max, but a deep wisdom and exhaustion beyond his sixteen years. Lucas supposed that after everything, they all shared that. They would all walk around with stories inside of them that no one else could ever know.

The bell rang, and for a moment neither boy moved. They waited until the first set of footsteps hit the staircase above them for Mike to pull himself to his feet. "Come on," he said, extending a hand to help Lucas up. "We're skipping."

Lucas felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. Max was in gone and Mike Wheeler was skipping clas for the first time since El came back. Maybe the world really was ending this time.

…

_MARCH 1988_

Months dragged on. They had not broken up, but they were not exactly long distance, either.

They has made plans to talk everyday, but missed calls and games of telephone tag were frequent.

She had written him letters, but they sat unopened in his desk drawer of everything hers.

He said he would try and save up to visit her over break, but he never did.

Not because they did not care. Not because they had given up. But because they were so desperately in love with each other that every goodbye, no matter how small, was even more painful than the last. And he had promised that he would never let anyone hurt her again. Including himself.

…

Her birthday was coming up. He tapped his pencil against his notebook rhythmically as he tried to come up with a plan.

For his, she had sent over a stack of comics (because apparently all the best ones were ten times easier to get ahold of in San Fransisco than in Hawkins), and they had talked on the phone all night (from the time she got out of school to the time he had to leave in the morning, all timezones considered). But that was back when they still talked often. And when the still sent mail regularly.

God, he missed her. But it was better this way.

"Lucas," someone tapped his shoulder.

He shifted in his seat and met the gaze of the girl behind him. Katie, he thought. Or was it Kathy? Maybe Kasey… He chalked it up to his head not being in the right space. Though, to be fair, it had been this way for a while.

"Do you remember what the homework was for Mr. Glassman's class?" she asked, twirling a dark ringlet around her index finger.

Lucas racked his fogged-up nerd brain and came up short. "Uh… no. Sorry."

He moved to turn back toward the front of the room, but her fingers were on his shoulder again. "Wait," she snapped her gum. "Are you pitching for the opening game on Saturday?"

"No, I quit baseball."

"Oh," she frowned. "Why? You were really good."

Lucas shrugged with one shoulder. "Wasn't my thing anymore, I guess."

Translation: Max was no longer around to impress. And without her, he needed a year-round distraction, so whenever he was not asleep or at school he was working at Nice Slice. Which, in turn, caused a rift between him and the party.

Not that he entirely minded. Because even when he did have free time to hang out, he did not want to see his friends. Being with them only made the hole Max had left in her absence all the more evident. Especially when they brought her up.

Katie or Kathy or Kasey snapped her gum again, finger still twisting in her hair. "I get that. Are you going to prom this year?"

There was a prom this year? "No."

" _Really_? Heard it's supposed to be righteous," she grinned.

Righteous should be up there with tubular, Lucas decided. "Yeah, I'll probably just work."

"Oh." She frowned again.

Class began before any further conversation could be made, and Lucas went through the motions as usual. Soon enough, it was over. But Lucas was not let out that easy.

"See you around, Lucas," Katie/Kathy/Kasey said with a charming smile as she swung her backpack over her shoulder and headed toward the door with a bounce in her step.

Troy, who sat next to Lucas and bore witness to the whole scene, began heartily laughing as soon as the girl was out of earshot. "Dude," he began soon after he caught his breath. "You can't be serious."

"About what?" Lucas asked hesitantly, looping his arm through his own bag.

Troy jerked his thumb in the direction of the door Katie/Kathy/Kasey just left out of. "That's Kat Torrez."

Lucas started toward the exit himself. "So?"

" _So_ ," Troy dragged the syllable out as he matched Lucas' pace, "she's the second hottest Spanish chick in eleventh grade -"

Lucas made a face. "You know that sounds super offensive, right?"

Troy continued, "and she was totally trying to get you to ask her to prom, and you completely shut her down," he shook his head as he chuckled. "I don't think she's ever been rejected before."

"Sorry to disappoint," Lucas mumbled. They were walking through the halls now, side by side as if they had been this chummy for years.

Troy either did not detect Lucas' sarcasm, or chose to ignore it. "No, man. You didn't disappoint. In fact, you made my whole fuckin' week. Keep up the good work."

And then he pat Lucas on the shoulder, as he would a friend, before disappearing down a side hallway.

The strangeness of it all was enough to give Lucas a headache. He shook it all out of his head and got back to the real issue at hand: Max's birthday present.

…

_APRIL 1988_

Thanks to his alarm clock not going off, Lucas had rushed to get to school and left his lunch at home. Classic rookie loner mistake.

He considered skipping lunch altogether, but the same whirlwind of a morning had him missing breakfast, so Lucas was starving.

So he grew a pair and risked his luck with the crowded cafeteria. As soon as he had payed for his food, he beelined for the door, trying to make his escape to the stairwell where he normally ate in solitude or Mike's silence.

But it was April Fool's Day. And Lucas could never be so lucky.

"Sinclair!" a voice called. Without thinking, he turned to the sound he should have known better to ignore.

None other than Troy himself was waving Lucas down while simultaneously clearing a spot at his table, even though they had not spoken since that day in the hall.

There were only two logical explanations that popped into Lucas' mind: A. This was a prank. B. He had entered an alternate dimension.

Based on previous experiences, both options seemed likely.

"C'mere," Troy called, patting the now cleared spot on the table next to him.

The thing about Lucas' current state of mind was that it did not matter if he was being pranked or entering some sort of Upside Down. He truly did not give a fuck anymore.

So he allowed his feet to take him to Troy's table. He stood, tray in hand as Troy and his two remaining friends - James and Scotty - blinked up at him.

"You guys know Sinclair, right?" Troy asked his friends. They shrugged. Lucas wondered if they remembered the big fight the four of them plus Max and Billy were all involved in. "This kid, _every single day_ , gets hit on by Kat Torrez."

Scotty Peterson emitted a half sigh, half groan at the mention of Kat, clearly frustrated.

"Like I told you before, everyone's into her. Scotty's got it bad," Troy told Lucas before turning back to his cronies. "Here's the best part: he completely blows her off every damn time. Just acts like he's bored out of his mind talking to her, and she's going _crazy_ for it man. It's the funniest fuckin' thing."

Only it was not acting. She was genuinely one of the most boring people Lucas had ever met. "You should try it," he suggested to Scotty. Maybe she would leave him alone if she found somebody else.

Scotty's eyebrows flew up his forehead. "You don't want her? She's the second hottest Spanish chick in eleventh grade…"

"I have a girlfriend." Lucas wondered if Max still considered him her boyfriend. He had been a pretty damn shitty one lately.

Then one of the worst thoughts he had ever conceived forced it's way into his mind: What if other guys were hitting on Max? Or worse, what if Max had fallen for someone else? Like some gargantuan surfer dude with abs of steel and skin the color of sunshine. Or even some small and scrawny kid with a heart of gold and dazzling smile. Or literally anyone at all because it was so easy to love Max. _His_ Max…

He felt dizzy just thinking about it, so Lucas slid into the empty seat needing this herd of mouthbreathers to distract him. God, this was a new low and he knew it.

After considering Lucas' words, Scotty asked, "Who?"

The opposite of a distraction. "Max Mayfield."

James shifted uncomfortably in his seat, recalling Billy's threats just two years prior. They did, in fact, remember the fight.

Troy caught wind of this, too, and quickly changed the subject. "Did you get you SAT scores back yet James?"

James rolled his eyes. "Not yet, but I'm pretty sure I failed."

"I don't think you can fail your SATs, man," provided Scotty. "Just like you don't pass 'em either."

"Yeah, but if there's anyone dumb enough to find a way to fail, it's James," Troy teased.

Lucas listened in as they went on, surprised at how _normal_ their conversations all sounded. Not just in the way that they did not chat about recreationally devouring the souls of innocent children or picking what kid they should torment next out of a hat, but that they did not talk about faceless monsters or superpowers or gates to other dimensions, either. Subjects that would come up often enough with the party for Lucas to get used to.

They picked on each other far more than they did their peers, if that was even possible. Their biggest issues were applying to colleges and winning over a girl's attention, not living with an ever present fear that one of their own may go missing again or that someday the government might find their homeschooled, telekinetic friend.

It was almost, dare Lucas admit it, _nice._

…

_JUNE 1988_

"Woah," Troy chucked. "Check it out."

It was the beginning of summer vacation. The four boys - Troy, James, Scotty, and even Lucas - were in line outside of The Hawk, waiting to buy movie tickets.

"What?" James and Scotty asked while Lucas continued not to really care about much of anything.

"Fairies. Nine o'clock."

Lucas knew who it was before he even turned his head to look. Sure enough, across the street Will Byers was walking down the sidewalk with one of the other art kids at Hawkins High; Carter Finch, sophomore.

Lucas' three new friends - he uses the term loosely - snickered amongst themselves as they dryly awed about how adorable the boy on boy "date" was.

"Don't be dicks," Lucas was sharp to speak up, still one of the only people to know Will Byers' truth. He realized then that it may be the first thing he had said all night.

Regardless, it was enough to shut them up. "Sorry, man. Forgot you were friends."

From that point on, not another harsh word was uttered from the bullies about any of the party members.


	14. Sinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But still, like dust, I'll rise."  
> -Maya Angelou

Part IV / _JANUARY 1983_

They were fighting again. As usual.

This time, like all of the other times, it was about something entirely stupid. Dad kept tossing around the words "budgeting" and "finances" and "we can't afford this house anymore" while Mom tried desperately to defend her spending habits.

Upstairs, Max tried to focus on her homework. It would all blow over eventually. It always did.

Dad slipped inside Max's room just after Mom had locked herself in their bedroom. "Hey, pumpkin," he greeted.

"Everything okay?" Max asked. They used to keep their arguments to whisper-screams and Max used to play along and act like nothing had happened. But now that they were so openly yelling just down the hall, it was impossible to even pretend to ignore.

"Of course," he lied with a kiss on his daughter's temple. "Your mother and I love each other, we just don't always agree."

But love was not always enough, Max came to realize a week later when her dad's stuff was gone and her mom had changed the locks.

…

_NOVEMBER 1987_

California was just as beautiful and bright as she had always remembered. But Lucas took the sun with him when he left, and Max's world faded to grey.

But he was not the only one who haunted her. She saw Billy every time she closed her eyes and felt his wrath every time she was left alone. It did not help that he had once lived in this town, too.

Sometimes she wondered what Newmont meant to him. Who was Billy Hargrove before everything went to shit? Before his mom died. Before his dad gave up. Before their parents met.

Maybe Max would never know. Maybe part of her never wanted to. It was so much easier for her to just hate him and not dwell too much on how or why he got to be the asshole he was.

…

"Delivery. From your not-so-secret admirer," Max's dad announced as he entered her room, package in hand.

She accepted the mail gratefully, and waited patiently for her father to give her privacy while she fiddled with the bandana around her wrist.

"What are you waiting for, pumpkin? Open it."

"Dad," she shot him a look. God, she had missed him. Even the old childhood nickname she suddenly did not mind at all.

"Alright, alright," he held his hands up in surrender, then turned to leave. Before he did, he stopped short in the doorway, "Oh, and uh, the school called. Said you can start as soon as Monday if you want, so when you're ready, just let me know."

Then he was on his way, and she was ripping into the bubble mailer from Lucas.

Inside it was a small brown box - square and relatively flat - along with the road map of Indiana and a postcard from California: "Greetings From the Golden State."

She flipped the postcard over to find a rough sketch of the Little Dipper. An arrow pointed to the North Star and his words were scrawled across the bottom. _"If you ever want to find your way back to me…"_

She laughed to herself as she studied it, tracing her fingers over the marks his pen had made for her. Then, she placed it ever so carefully in the top drawer of her desk, deciding she wanted to start a shine for him, too.

Next, she unfolded the huge map they had bought together, and could not help but grin when she saw he had marked off Hawkins with a red star. She tacked Indiana to the wall above her bed like artwork, entirely unaware that 2,270 miles away Lucas had done the exact same thing with California.

She saved the box for last. Inside sat a short gold chain with a dainty pendant.

Max was never one for jewelry, and he knew that. But he sent her a necklace anyways, so she wore it.

The bruises around her neck were almost done healing - nearly invisible to anyone who did not know what to look for - and the world's tiniest golden sun took their place right at the base of her throat

...

_JANUARY 1988_

"I'm gonna stop in here really quick," Max told JJ and Chase. They were exploring the city for the day when a comic book store caught the corner of her eye. "I'll catch up with you guys in a minute."

The bell chimed as she pulled open the door, and rather than follow her instructions, her friends followed her inside. "You read comics now?" JJ asked curiously.

"Yeah," she shrugged casually as she began making her way through the aisles. But it was not true. In reality, Lucas' birthday was coming up quickly and she still needed to figure out something to send to him. But a little white lie hurt less than the pang in her heart or the sympathetic look in JJ's eyes at the mention of Lucas' name.

"What's your favorite?" Chase asked, eyeing the racks and shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

"X-Men." She had never gotten through an entire issue on her own, but Lucas and Mike and Dustin and Will practically worshiped the series.

Having a similar lack of knowledge about comics, Chase and JJ nodded their heads nonchalantly. "Sweet."

_…_

_MARCH 1988_

"Are you going to prom this year?"

Max laughed so hard she almost fell off her skateboard. Well, not her skateboard. JJ's old one that he was letting her borrow because hers was still back in Hawkins. Anyways, it felt good to laugh.

Chase shrugged, not quite so amused. "I'm serious."

"So am I," she giggled. "Me? Go to prom?"

"Why not?"

Because when was the last time Max Mayfield had worn a dress? Or wanted to hang out with a bunch of kids from school? Or wanted to eat bad food and dance to shitty music? Because she could not really dance. Because dances reminded her of the Snow Ball. Because the Snow Ball reminded her of Lucas. "It's just not my thing."

"Yeah?" he asked, hopping off his board. So she did, too. They tucked them under their arms and began strolling at a much slower pace. "Then what is your thing?"

Driving around with the windows down while they sang terribly at the top of their lungs with Lucas. Sitting under a sea of stars and naming their own made-up constellations with Lucas. Turning a film's sound off so they could create their own rediculous dialogue and laugh so hard they could barely breathe with Lucas…

"I guess I like watching movies."

Chase nodded approvingly. "We should go see one sometime."

"Yeah." She smiled. "I know JJ's been wanting to see -"

"Max," he chuckled, running a hand over his dirty blond buzz cut and resting it at the back of his neck. "I'm kinda trying to ask you on a date, if you haven't noticed."

_Oh._ "I have a boyfriend, Chase." Her fingers moved instinctively to the base of her throat, toying with the necklace she always wore. She still considered Lucas her boyfriend, even if she was not too sure she was still considered his girlfriend. "You met him. We all hung out. Remember?"

Chase cocked an eyebrow at her and she knew what he was thinking: _That kid that went back to Indiana after a few days?_ She rolled her eyes dramatically in response to his thoughts.

"I didn't say anything!"

"Neither did I."

He held a hand up in surrender. "Forget I asked, then. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

He winked and nudged her playfully, and she felt the corner of her mouth curve up on impact. " _So_ smooth," she teased.

…

_APRIL 1988_

A brown box sat on the end of her bed when she got home from school. She did not even have to look at the return address of the mysterious package to know who it was from; there was only one person who sent her mail.

"Lucas?" JJ guessed behind her. All Max could bring herself to do was nod.

JJ sat and pulled the package into his lap, shaking it like a present while Max grabbed a pair of scissors off her desk. "What do you think it is?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," she told him, reaching out to take it, but he pulled it out of her reach.

"You don't wanna wait 'til your birthday?"

"What?"

"Your birthday, Max. Next week," JJ reminded her in a 'duh' tone of voice. "And if I had to take a wild guess, I'd say this is Lucas sending you your present."

"Don't be ridiculous," she warned instead of admitting she had completely forgotten about her own birthday. Was it really next week?

Her last one had been a bust, ending in tears for both she and Lucas after her mother had stupidly invited him over for dinner with Neil. But even then, she had not spent a birthday without Lucas since they met. She knew that if he was not there, it just would not be the same.

She shook the old memories out of her head as she so often did these days and successfully snatched the box from JJ's grip.

"What do you think it is?" he asked again.

Max responded by placing the package on the bed next to her friend and tearing open the tape with her scissors. Tipping the whole thing over to dump out the contents, over a dozen cassette tapes tumbled out, clattering into a pile on top of her comforter.

"Mixtapes?" JJ asked, picking one up to examine. _"'Songs for when you're sad,'"_ he read from the label.

Her hands quickly went to work revealing the labels of all the others: Songs for when you're happy, songs for when you're stressed, songs for your next road trip, songs Will would want me to add, songs that remind me of you...

Butterflies managed to flooded her gut. Even when it had been weeks since they last spoke, even from thousands of miles away, even when she was not sure what they were anymore, he made her insides radiate his warmth.

This must have been evident on her face because JJ joked, "You're such a girl, Maxie."

"Shut up," she mumbled halfheartedly.

"Damn, this one's taken a beating." JJ picked up one that looked much older than the others; the clear case was cracked and the plastic of the tape was scratched and the 'For MadMax' written across the label was faded.

It was the mixtape he had made her for that first Valentine's Day. The one that sparked their second kiss and played on an endless loop in her mind. Lucas must have gotten it from her locker after she left. It was where she hid it for safe keeping from Billy or Neil or even her mom.

"That's 'cause it's, like, three years old." She plucked it from JJ's fingers and held it close to her chest while she reached for the phone on her bedside table. Lucas was hardly ever around to talk anymore - but then gain, neither was she when he called - but Max had to try. She had to let him know she got his gifts.

JJ popped a random tape into the stereo on Max's bookshelf while she took his place on the bed, dialing the number for the Sinclairs. The ringback tone hummed in her ear as a song Lucas had picked for her filled the room. It was one she had never heard before, with a killer baseline and husky-voiced lead singer. JJ began humming along as he scanned the spines of her father's old encyclopedias.

"Hello?" Erica answered the phone.

"Erica! Hey. It's me," Max greeted.

"Let me guess," the smile was evident in her voice, "you want to talk to my brother?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" she laughed. "You never call just me."

"You never call me, either," Max fired back playfully, fingers looping around the necklace at her throat.

"Touché," Erica admitted, just before rustling came from her end as she cradled the phone to her chest. She shouted, "Lucas! Phone!" A beat passed before that was followed by, "Who do you think, dummy?" She put the phone back to her ear and told Max, "He's coming."

"He's home?" Max asked, a bit surprised. JJ chucked. Devine timing must be in play today.

"Unfortunately," Erica huffed. Max could practically hear her eyes roll. "It's all been a nightmare without you, I swear."

Max's brow furrowed. "Lucas? Or life in general?"

"Both," she deadpanned, followed by a giggle at her own joke. Before Max had the chance to ask her to elaborate, Erica gave a quick, "Here's Lucas. Love you, bye! Call me sometime," before handing off the phone to her brother.

"Hey," the voice that sounded like home greeted tentatively.

Sometimes, when she missed him too much, Max forgot how to breathe. So when she opened her mouth, the words got stuck in her throat.

That's when JJ turned the volume of the stereo up to full blast and the music played loud enough for Lucas to hear on the other end of the phone.

The sound of Lucas' laughter filled her ear, and while it did not sound exactly like it used to, it pulled at her heart and stung her eyes just the same.

…

_JUNE 1988_

Max never knew exactly how much she had missed the beach until she stood ankle-deep in the Pacific for the first time in far too long. Her skin soaked in the last day of spring as the tides stole the sand from under her feet.

"You goin' in, or what?" JJ asked, walking up from behind and planting his own feet right beside her. Max found herself jealous of the way his skin was already golden, when she was certain to return home a lovely shade of scarlet - no matter how much sunscreen she piled on.

"I _am_ in." She kicked water in his direction, splashing his legs to prove her point.

He splashed back harder. "I mean all the way in, Mayfield."

"Forgot how to swim?" Chase asked, coming to stand on Max's other side.

"Of course not."

"Then what are we waiting here for?"

She had only been waiting because she was trying to savor every moment. Lucas told her once that looking at the night sky made his worries seem so much smaller. Max had just discovered same comfort looking out into the horizon and feeling the sand between her toes, and she knew it was a feeling worth committing to memory.

But Chase did not give her the chance to answer, not that she would have shared that information, anyway. Instead, he barreled full-speed into the ocean, until the deeper water was too much resistance on his shins and he dove in head first. A few moments later, Max and JJ watched him come up for air even further out.

"Ready?" JJ asked.

"Yeah." But she did not move, looking out to the edge of the world and searching for that comfort again.

"Then c'mon!" He grabbed Max's hand and began skipping through the waves as she jogged to keep up.

JJ was the one to let out a girlish squeal when their steps caused drops of the ocean to spray up at them; Max could taste the salt when she threw her head back in laughter.

She had never realized how much she had missed the ocean until it drowned out her heartache and lifted the weight of her troubles from her shoulders, leaving her feeling infinitely lighter, if only for a little while. She just wished El and Mike and Will and Dustin and Lucas were all there to feel it, too.

...

There was a knock at Max's bedroom door just before it opened. Mr. Mayfield offered his daughter a smile. "Phone's for you."

"Thanks," Max said, reaching for the phone on her bedside table as her dad disappeared into the hall. She lifted the receiver to her ear, knowing who it was before needing to ask. There was only one person who still called regularly. "Hey."

"Hey," the familiar voice greeted from the other end of the line. Only, he sounded oodly serious today. "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Your mom really didn't tell you?"

Max scoffed. "Does she tell me anything? You're kinda the only one who still talks to me."

"Damn. I thought someone would've beaten me to it by now, it's huge news."

"So tell me," Max insisted, but a logical answer clicked in her mind before he had the chance to cut to the chase. "Shit, Steve. It's Billy... isn't it?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "It's Billy."


	15. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Give your tears back to the ocean. You have no use for them anymore."  
> -K. Azizian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter talks about incidents of domestic violence. Please mind your triggers.

Part V / _JUNE 1988_

_HAWKINS MAN ARRESTED IN DOMESTIC VIOLENCE INCIDENT_

A Hawkins man has been arrested on charges of domestic violence, according to Chief Jim Hopper.

William "Billy" Hargrove, 22, of Hawkins was charged with one felony count of domestic violence by strangulation in a Pine Street residence.

Officers responded to the complaint at approximately 10 p.m. on Friday, June 24, taking the suspect into custody without incident.

The suspect allegedly assaulted the victim, his 20-year-old girlfriend, by choking, punching, and throwing her around the residence. The victim was transported from the scene to Marshall Memorial Hospital for her injuries.

Hargrove refused bail and is being held at the Emmet County Detention Center awaiting arraignment.

…

_AUGUST 1988_

"I'm tellin' you, man, waffles are _way_ better than pancakes 'cause you can pour the syrup on and it won't fall out." Scotty Peterson was always way too high for his own good.

"But at what cost? Pancakes have better overall taste _and_ texture." James countered. "Back me up here, Troy?"

Troy shrugged, too preoccupied with constructing a miniature mountain of sugar on the table of the diner. "I got nothin', dude. I don't like breakfast food."

Scotty made a face, as if he were personally offended by the remark. James huffed and slouched back in the booth. Lucas remained silent, as usual, opting to fiddle with the straw of his Coke instead.

The bell of the diner door rang behind Lucas just as James' face fell. "God..."

Troy, next to him, looked up and held back his own grimace.

This left Scotty and Lucas to turn in their seats out of curiosity. And there stood Dustin Henderson, scanning the small but crowded restaurant. His face washed over with relief when he caught sight of Lucas. Immediately, he made his way over.

"Incoming," James muttered, sinking further back into the booth. The kid was still traumatized by the times El and Billy had each give him a taste of his own medicine.

Troy was, too - completely unable to get over the whole broken arm and pissing his pants thing - but he played it much more cool by returning his attention to his sugar pile.

"Lucas," Dustin said almost breathlessly, slamming his hands down on the end of their table and causing the silverware to jump.

"Cool it, man," Scotty warned half-heartedly.

If Dustin had even noticed the presence of the three other boys, he did not show any sign of it. "She's back."

No name was mentioned, but with Dustin's unusual stone cold seriousness and Lucas' short list of people who had left in the first place, it did not take a rocket scientist to figure out who.

" _What?_ "

Dustin nodded vehemently. "If you answered your damn phone for once, maybe you would know."

And then he was gone. Well, almost gone. He made it halfway to the diner's exit before looking back and holding his hands up in question. "Are you coming or what?"

It was what Lucas needed to spring into action. He was on his feet in an instant before he damn near sprinted out the door without giving so much of a glance back to Troy or Scotty or James.

Max Mayfield was the only thought on his mind.

…

Max had no idea what she and Lucas were anymore. Or if they were anything at all. So she played it safe and called Dustin to help her unpack. The kid could lift - not that she had much that needed lifting in the first place - and would never pass up an opportunity to hang out with Steve Harrington.

Max waited around with the latter for the former to show up, and as they did they wrote the apartment's Rules of Coexistence:

1\. Don't be too loud.  
2\. Clean up after your-damn-self.  
3\. Pay rent on time.

Simple enough. Max and Steve each signed and dated the bottom.

Out of everyone, Max was surprised to find, she had kept in touch with Steve the most consistently during her time in California. He was her eyes and ears on the inside, letting her in on everything that was happening in Hawkins from a neutral perspective. Sure, she would get a load of Dustin's rants and El's most recent gossip, but those were always as strongly biased as they were few and far between.

And Steve's investigate journalism did not just end with her friends. He had filled Max in on Billy's arrest weeks before her mother ever tried to. Then he had proceeded to tell her that if she wanted the spare bedroom of his apartment, then it was hers.

It was damn near perfect. Max felt terrible for leaving her mother alone with Neil, and felt like she needed to be in Hawkins. However, she could not bring herself to ever want to enter that house again, not with Neil and especially not with the kind of memories those walls held. Her mother was happy to have her daughter close, even if that meant living with some twenty-two-year old guy. Plus, it was all just in time for her to start senior year in Indiana and graduate from Hawkins High School.

Not to mention the fact that Steve needed the help with rent.

Oh, and then there was Lucas. Not that Max noticed.

Really the only downside was how painful it had been to leave her dad and JJ and Chase behind again.

"Sweet," she smiled as Steve stuck the Rules to the fridge with a magnet.

Their hands met in a high five just before they heard the knock at the door.

"It's open!" Steve shouted. Max rolled her eyes and made a mental note to add ' _Lock the fucking door, Steve_ ' to the list of rules.

And before she even knew it, Dustin was there lifting Max into a tight hug, spinning her around in a circle.

When she was in California, she had tried to remember the the last words she and each of her friends had exchanged face to face. For a while Max thought she and Dustin had parted ways just before he disappeared into the Halloween party's crowd, but after a few months a new memory of that night resurfaced:

_"_ _Hey, are you alright?"_ Dustin had asked as he caught her leaving Jennifer Hayes' party early and visibly upset. There was a hazy look in his eyes and the smell of alcohol in his breath.

" _Yeah,"_ she had lied. _"Just tired, so I'm gonna go home. See you Monday?"_

It had been ten months since then, but in their rib-crushing reunion, all Max could think to say was, "Hi!"

"God, I missed you." They had stopped twirling, but she was still in the air and he squeezed her tighter and she giggled through the pain, because she had missed him and all the rest of her friends, too. So, so badly.

Finally, he put her down, and they beamed at each other for a moment - God, he had not changed a bit; all bright eyes and big cheeks and unruly curls - until movement over his shoulder caught her eye.

Just behind Dustin, Lucas' lean frame loitered almost timidly in the entryway of the kitchen. They locked eyes and Max heard her breath hitch in her throat.

She was not expecting him, but he was there. All of a sudden, he was just a few feet away. She swore her heart skipped a few beats.

Just before he had headed back for Indiana, she had told him she loved him - only it came out as _"Don't be stupid," -_ for what must have been the millionth time in ten minutes. A Guinness Book World Record, probably.

He had told her that he loved her, too, only it came out as _"I know."_ Again and again and again.

But now Max was just speechless.

…

His memory of her had not done her justice.

Her red hair was more vibrant than he could have ever remembered. It was tossed up in a ponytail, but it had curled up as it liked to in the humidity; even the little wispy bits that hung around her ears. Her skin was glowing from her California summer, looking as tanned as ever against the crisp white of her t-shirt.

She giggled at something Dustin had said, and the sound was so melodic it woke up something deep inside of Lucas he had assumed long dead.

But part of him was still numb. Part of him still did not register she was real and right there in front of him.

Except she was. And when her ocean eyes locked with his, his heart began racing so fast he feared it might burst.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," was all he could think to reply, as if his brain had lost all function.

There was no way of knowing who moved first, but the distance between them closed somewhere in the middle, her arms wrapping around his neck as his circling her waist, pulling her in as close as she could get.

Under his embrace, she was whole and solid and real. Beautiful and breathing and safe.

And she smelt like sunshine; a familiar scent that Lucas was slow to place with sunblock, but made him feel lighter nonetheless.

They just stood and held each other for a while, tuning out the world. Not even noticing when Dustin and Steve slipped out.

For that while, they did not say anything else. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. How much he had missed her. How he never wanted to have to live without her again. But any sequence of words his mind could try and string together would have been an understatement.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, giving him a great view of the constellations that stood out across her nose and cheeks. Without thinking, he reached up and traced his thumb over the freckles on her cheekbone.

"You're real," he thought out loud.

"Of course I am," Max replied with a smirk. "Don't be stupid."

His. Heart. Soared. Beaming, he pulled back just slightly to look at her.

"I miss you," she whispered after seriousness took over her expression.

"I've missed you, too. So damn much," he told her as he caught sight of light reflecting off the gold chain around her neck. "I'm sorry I've been the shittiest boyfriend -"

"That's not your fault," she cut him off. "I'm the one who left."

"That's not your fault, either. You shouldn't have had to," he reminded her, but she had no response. He turned his attention back to the necklace as reached a hand to trace the chain from her collarbone to the tiny sun just below the hollow of her throat. ' _If you ever want to find your way back to me_ ,' he had written on the accompanying postcard. He realized out loud, "You did it."

She grinned then. The kind that lit up her whole face and showed off her dimples. The kind that suddenly made everything worth it; the loneliness, the hollowness, the heartache, everything. The kind he wanted to admire forever, but before he knew it, her lips brushed against his. And then they were moving together as their hands were pulling each other closer and butterflies were flooding his gut like they always used to.

The familiarity of it all made him smile so wide that he broke the kiss. Lucas had loved Max the same since middle school. Because loving her was as easy as breathing air, and that's the only way he could describe it. The hard part was that life got in the way, sometimes. But he would not let it anymore. Never again.

...

Jim Hopper dropped by later that night. But he was not playing the role of El's dad as Max had become so used to seeing. He was there as the chief, needing to ask Max some questions about Billy Hargrove for the case he was putting together.

But there was so many versions of her step-brother that she did not know which one Hop was asking for.

So she told him everything.  
Everything.

She told him of the Billy she had met in California and the Billy he became when he moved to Hawkins. She told him of the Billy that left for college in Chicago and the Billy that came back after he flunked out.

She told him of the Billy in the halls at school,  
and the one when Neil came home,  
and the one she knew best:  
alone, behind closed doors.

She told him of the Billy Hargrove  
who picks his poison wisely.  
The one who drives fast  
and smokes a pack a day  
and finds solace  
in any pretty, faceless girl  
who happens to find her way  
into the backseat  
of his Camaro.

She even  
even  
told him  
of the Billy Hargrove  
who grieved his mother  
(on the other side of the wall sometimes)  
and remembered Max's thirteenth birthday  
(when no one else in her family did)  
and shattered against his father's fist  
(nearly every night).

But Hopper wanted to know about last Halloween. The night when running away was the bravest thing she could think to do.

Max blinked at him. She had sort of figured everyone within her circle would have heard the story by now.

But, "Lucas wouldn't budge. Hardly told anyone anything."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Max's mouth, but it never reached her eyes because Hopper prompted again.

And so she told him everything.  
Everything.

All party music and drowned-out jealousy  
before slammed doors and sore-throat screams  
and a smashed bottle and a broken boy  
who would not let her breathe  
and her feet against the pavement  
and a car headed for far, far away.

Everything.  
Even if the information was too old to be used in a trial.

She had been pushing the memories away for far too long now and was trying her best to piece together all the different fragments. So she took her time and he took his notes and it was hard for her to relive and for him to swallow.

She was grateful for her life. And that the other girl made it out alive, too. But she should not have to be. Lucas was right, she should not have had to been the one to run away.

Hopper flipped closed his little notebook and tucked it back into the breast pocket of his uniform, right alongside his pen. "If all goes well in trial, then Billy shouldn't be an issue for a long time."

Max nodded.

Hop got up to leave, but stopped short in the doorway of her new bedroom, turning to tell her one last thing. "And, uh, welcome back, kid."

"Thanks."

He pat the doorframe once before making his way out  
of her room  
of the apartment  
down to the station.

When she walked back out into the kitchen,  
Steve and  
Dustin and  
Lucas  
all did a terrible job of hiding the fact that they had just eavesdropped on the entire conversation, made evident by pain and pity written all over their faces and Dustin turning away to dab the corners of his leaky eyes with the neckline of his t-shirt.

Max found it easier to pretended right along with them, and did not even realize she was crying, too, until Lucas kissed her forehead and swiped his thumbs over her wet cheeks and looked at her with a promise in his eyes.

...

Better days were on the horizon again.

The first day of school came soon after. The first day of senior year.

Lucas and Max walked down the hall hand in hand like they always used to. But this time, no one cared. No one stared or snickered or turned to their friends to whisper ignorant things.

Troy and Scotty walked toward them, and Lucas felt Max tense up instinctively beside him.

"Hey, dude," Scotty greeted with a jerk of his chin.

"Hey," Lucas smirked.

"What's up?" Tory asked rhetorically, before offering Max a lopsided smile. "Welcome back, Mayfield."

Then they were gone, Troy patting Lucas twice on the back as they passed.

Over her shoulder, Max watched them disappear down the hall before turning and eyeing Lucas. "So you're some sorta hot shit now?" she teased, to which he scoffed humorously in response. "Seriously, Lucas. That was like watching _The Twilight Zone_."

He could not help but laugh; the kind that sounded so much better after Max joined in.

...

He kept one arm wrapped around her waist as he used his other hand to knock on the front door. When Mrs. Wheeler answered, she greeted Lucas and Max with her most welcoming smile. "Long time, no see!" she told both of them. "They're all in the basement already."

Lucas and Max lead themselves through the house like they had a million times before. Looking around, Max found comfort in the way nothing ever seemed to change at the Wheeler's.

After descending the basement steps, the two were greeted with the warm and familiar faces of their four best friends. Their party. Will and Dustin and Mike and El.

"You made it!" Will beamed.

Max mirrored his grin. "Of course we made it."

They would not have missed it for the world. They had found their way back now. Both of them.


	16. Young Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Forever is composed of nows."  
> -Emily Dickinson

_JUNE 1981_

Lucas' cub scout troop was on a camping trip in an open field. He had no idea what time it was when his tentmate shook him awake, he just knew it was late, and that everyone but the crickets were sleeping.

" _Lucas_ ," Tristain whisper-screamed, shaking his shoulder. "Lucas, I have to pee."

They operated on a buddy system; no one goes anywhere alone. This meant that whenever Tristan had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, Lucas had to go with him and vice versa.

Lucas let out a low groan as he pulled himself to his feet. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his hand while Tristan unzipped the tent.

When they stepped outside, their mouths dropped in amazement. The stars had come down to Earth and made a new home in the vast field of grass. Fireflies flickered their greeting to the two young boys.

Tristan was quick to shut off his flashlight. Once he did, more and more started lighting up before their very eyes. There were millions of them, paving a path for miles and miles, it seemed.

A slow grin, wide and bright and wonderful, spread over each of their faces, the glow in their eyes reflecting that of their new friends.

Lucas had never been one to believe in magic, but his young heart felt it then.

...

_AUGUST 1983_

The locals called it "Little Cove" - a stretch of beach that curved inward on itself as if the rocks were trying to hug the sea - but it was not until Max and JJ were twelve that they felt big enough to scale the bluff. By that time, however, they had been spared the rock climbing trip with knowledge of a back pathway through the woods to one of the lower cliffs. It was there that the two kicked off their Vans and stripped down to their swimsuits.

The low sun skipped in sparkles across the water. They had made it early, successfully avoiding the high school crowds that liked to take their turns later on in the day.

"Are you ready?" Max asked.

"Yeah." JJ grinned, trying not to let himself be daunted by the distance to the water.

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. We only get to be young and stupid once, right?"

"Right."

He took her hand and squeezed it hard, never letting up. They had decided they would face the jump together, and as Max risked a glance down at the crashing waves, she was glad they had made that call. They stepped a few paces back for a proper running start.

"On three?" Max asked.

JJ nodded, eyes wide but posture stoic.

"One."

The California heat felt tight on her skin and the stone of the cliff was warm under the soles of her feet. It begged her to back out. To stay up on solid ground.

"Two."

She squeezed JJ's hand back, just as tight. The two of them had always been brave, but as they stood on top of the world it felt so easy to fear the fall.

"Three."

A shot of courage spiked her veins. Max and JJ ran at full speed toward the edge of the cliff.

For a split second, they were suspended together in midair, just before gravity gave way. JJ shouted before they hit the ocean, and water shot up Max's nose.

He made it up for air first, spitting water out of his mouth like a fountain and tugging at her hand to bring her up to the surface. They rode the adrenaline rush, treading water and laughing hard, but still JJ did not let go of her hand and neither did she.

Later she would realize that falling in love with Lucas was a lot like diving off a cliff, in the best way possible.

...

_JULY 1986_

"I feel like we should go do something." Lucas lay next to Max on the hammock in his backyard. With the air sticky on their skin, he kept his hand clasped with hers and one leg draped over the side, rocking his foot against the ground to sway them gently back and forth. The slight breeze it created offered a hint of relief from the heavy heat.

Max turned her head to look at him, light eyes squinting against the midsummer sun. "Like what?"

"I dunno. Anything… We're fifteen. And it's summer." He knew doing something fun was what they were _supposed_ to be doing, but as he the words left his mouth, his heart just was not entirely in them.

Being fifteen made Luas and Max and the rest of the party realize, now more than ever before, that the autumns of '83 and '84 made them each grow up so much faster than they should have. They understood the world in a way that the people around them may never get the chance to - they had seen evil, they had risked death, they watched the world as they knew it come to an end - and that divide only grew more and more evident as the years went on. And now it was paired with the fact that they were just on the cusp of sixteen; they were unable to drive or get real jobs or be taken as seriously as they felt they should.

For the most part, they were treated like kids. Because they were supposed to be. And sometimes it worked; sometimes they would forget. They would feel days or weeks or months of youth hit them like a double shot of espresso. But it would only last as long as it took for Will to catch a cough, or for El to run a little late, or for the lights to flicker. For something to remind them all to remember. And, boy, did they remember. In flashbacks. And nightmares. And the shadows cast in their eyes; the ones that made them all seem as if they had returned from a war they were not fully convinced they won.

They were fifteen and everyone their age was looking for ways to grow up. The party was looking for ways to hit pause. To stay still. To stop time be young and stupid while they still had the chance.

Max found it interesting that everything they had gone through seemed to have the opposite effect on the older kids, who longed to be the adults they felt they were for such a long time now. It was why Steve moved out of his parents house as soon as he possibly could while he worked his way up the ladder of his dad's company. It was why Nancy and Jonathan, come August, were running off to New York for school and a fresh start in a big city.

Max squeezed Lucas' hand. They could make popsicles or run through sprinklers or start a fire and roast s'mores. They could go to the arcade or to the movies or to the lake. They could be young and stupid. They could do any number of things kids were supposed to do on summer vacation, if they really wanted to. But sometimes it was nice to hit the pause button. Sometimes it was nice to just stay still for a while. "If you want to, we can… But this is nice, too."

…

_JULY 2000_

It was a beautiful night out, so Lucas and Max slipped away from the small party as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

The Sinclairs' backyard was ever-changing, but somehow it always felt the same; surrounded by trees, it made everyone who stepped out through the sliding glass doors feel remote from the rest of the world. The large patio gave way to an even larger expanse of well-manicured grass. In the winter it served as the perfect arena for snowball fights, but in the summer Mrs. Sinclair decorated the space with a hammock and lawn chairs while Mr. Sinclair kept out his grill and sprouted a vegetable garden.

What Lucas had always loved best was that he could see the stars so clearly. Even at twenty-nine years old, he tilted his head back and admired the sky with a young heart full of wonder the moment he closed the door behind him. "It's going to be a full moon tomorrow," he noted. "Just in time."

Max followed his upward gaze. "I can't believe she's getting married," she told the silver moon.

"I can. But maybe that's 'cause it's all she's ever dreamed about." Lucas chucked to himself as an old memory flashed behind his eyes. "She used to steal my action figures when we were little and make them get married to her Barbies."

Max smiled at the idea; it was totally something young Erica would do, if not for the sake of her Barbie's love life, then to simply piss off her brother. Atlas back then. Everything was so different now... Idly, she toyed with the ring around her own fourth finger. "We're old now, aren't we?"

"We're not _old,"_ said Lucas, trying to convince the both of them. "We're still in our twenties. Technically."

"It's 2000, Lucas. 2000. And your little sister's getting married tomorrow, and in six months, you'll be thirty. _Thirty_."

Lucas opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Max added, "Dustin has three kids now, babe. Three! Is that not crazy?"

He studied her distressed look for a moment. "Are you having a midlife crisis already?"

"Maybe." She finished off the champagne she had been nursing from a clear plastic cup.

He took the cup and set it next to his own on the patio table before taking her hand and leading her further into the yard, back to where a hammock hung between two trees. It was not the exact same one they had spent their summers on years ago, but they were not the exact same people they were back then, either.

They sat together on the edge and planted their feet on the ground. Max rested her head on his shoulder and Lucas looked to the stars.

"We're grown ups now, but we're not old," said Lucas, decisively. He squeezed her hand once. "Not yet."

"Whatever you say, stalker," she said with a smirk in her voice.

They sat on the hammock and let time go by for a little while, and Max tried not to worry about it. She knew that no matter how much time passed, they would always have moments to stay still. They would always have _this_.

She squeezed his hand twice. Eventually, they had to rejoin the rest of their family inside, but she did not let go. And neither did he.


	17. Pinky Swear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you need a little sunshine you can borrow some of mine."  
> -The Front Bottoms, Lonely Eyes

_OCTOBER 1986_

"Hey, Max. Hey, El. Hey, nerds," Erica said as she entered the kitchen.

"Hey," Max, El, and Will all greeted.

The party had gathered around the table to make use of Mrs. Sinclairs sewing, adding finishing touches to their Halloween costumes. Well, Will and Max were - being the only two that knew how to sew - while Lucas and Mike and Dustin and El kept them company.

"Aren't you all too old to go trick-or-treating?" Erica asked with a cocked brow. She made her way to the fridge and pulled out a can of Coke.

Lucas stifled an eye roll. No one knew how to explain that El had never been trick-or-treating before without inviting another round of twenty-questions, so instead Max told her, "Probably."

"And _you're_ wearing _pink_?" she asked, eying the shirt Max was hand stitching.

"No." Max laughed and shook her head. "No, this is El's."

El asked the younger girl, "Are you going trick-or-treating?"

Erica opened her mouth to reply, but was promptly cut off by her brother. "She can't. My mom doesn't think her and her friends are old enough to go alone, but she doesn't want my dad to take her."

Erica threw her nastiest glare at Lucas.

"What time were you guys planning on going?" asked Max after a moment of careful consideration.

"Early." Erica rolled her eyes. "Lily has to be up the next morning for a soccer game."

Max gave a nonchalant shrug as she triple knotted the thread. "I'll take you. If that's okay with your mom..."

Erica's eyes went round. " _Really?_ "

"Yeah. Really?" Dustin asked. "You're gonna bail?"

"It's not _bailing_ ," said Max. "I'll go early with Erica and then meet up with you guys later."

"You'd wanna do that?" asked Lucas, eyeing his annoyance of a sister.

"Yeah. What's better than bossing around a few eleven-year-olds for a couple hours?"

Erica grinned, wide and brilliant, lighting up her entire face. "You promise?"

"I promise."

In a few short paces, Erica made her way over to where Max sat. She set her Coke on the table and offered her pinky. Max hooked hew own with Erica's.

"You're the best," Erica told her, and they kissed their thumbs to secure the deal.

"I know."

"I have to go call Lily and Reagan."

"Okay." Max chuckled as Erica raced off toward her bedroom. She used her teeth to cut the excess thread from the new seam.

"That was weird," said Mike as he glanced between Max and the hall Erica disappeared down.

Lucas shook his head. "I don't know why, but they love each other."

Max claimed the Coke Erica had abandoned at the table and smirked into the can's lip. "She's the little sister I never wanted."

…

_JUNE 1987_

"Max, I swear to God if you let go -"

"I'm not gonna let you fall, Erica," Max promised. She stood with her feet planted, holding Erica's forearms for support. "You're doing great. Just keep your balance and get your back foot on the board."

"It's gonna roll away!"

Max laughed. "I won't let you roll away."

Erica glanced quickly back at her house, as if she were beginning to consider changing her mind about wanting to learn how to skateboard. But she turned back to Max and searched her eyes for the confidence she needed to step her back food onto Max's skateboard. She was wobbly at first, but quickly found her balance and grinned at her small victory.

"See? You got this. You're gonna do it again, but this time I want you to push against the ground with your foot when you do."

"So that I start moving?"

"That's the idea, yeah."

Erica's eyes widened.

"I won't let go."

"You promise?"

"I promise," said Max, but Erica still looked hesitant. "I'd pinky swear if you didn't have a death grip on my arms, okay? I'm right here. You got this."

Erica nodded, took a deep breath, and followed her instructions - stepping her back foot off of the board and gently pedaling it against the ground before returning it to its proper position. It began a slow and steady roll down the street, toward the end of the cul-de-sac where Mike and Lucas waited in front of the Wheeler's house and watched the scene unfold. _"This should be interesting,"_ they had both decided when Erica first expressed interest in learning how to skate.

"Turn your front foot sideways," Max instructed as she kept hold of Erica and walked alongside the board. Erica obeyed and shifted her stance so both feet were parallel. It helped her balance and boosted her self trust.

They were going so slow that it was not long for the board came to a near stop. "Again," Max told her. "But faster this time."

With a bit more confidence in her movements, Erica pushed her back foot against the ground just a bit harder, sending her just a bit faster. The two repeated the process a few more times before Erica did not seem to need Max anymore. So Max let go.

"Max!" Erica shouted. "You promised!"

"You got this! Faster!"

All by herself, Erica increased the speed of her skateboard. She clapped for herself victoriously and cruised the rest of the short distance to where Lucas and Mike sat a few houses down. She leaped off of the board and gave her brother a double high-five while Max jogged back to the Sinclair's.

"Come back this way!" Max called down the street.

Erica, now feeling invincible, stepped back up on the board with ease.

…

_FEBRUARY 1989_

Erica was barely fourteen years old the first time she had her heart broken.

One of her best friends, Reagan, approached the party in the hall after lunch period. "Max?" she asked tentatively. Her wide eyes were weary and her posture tense. Something was off.

The whole group turned their attention to the underclassmen, even though she had only addressed one of them. "Yeah?" asked Max.

"It's Erica. She's in the bathroom. Crying -" Reagan cut herself off, shook her head, and backtracked. "It's about Kyle -"

"What happened?" Lucas asked. Max could almost feel every muscle in his body tense next to her. As much as he and Erica got on each other's nerves, he always felt protective of his little sister. To make matters worse, he had never trusted Kyle.

"I'm not _exactly_ sure but…" Her eyes flicked back to Max's. "If you could just come with me, I think she really needs you."

"Yeah," Max said to Reagan. She smiled goodbye to her group of guys, but it never reached her eyes.

Then the two girls took off down the hall, Lucas following shortly behind. "She's in the bathroom," Reagan reminded him. "The _girls_ bathroom."

"I'll wait outside."

Reagan gave him a confused look, but ultimately dropped the subject as they rounded the corner. When they reached the bathrooms, Lucas took Max's hand. "Let me know?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"I'm out here if she needs me."

"Okay."

He squeezed her hand once before releasing it. She followed Reagan through the bathroom door.

A sniffling Erica stood with her back against the sink as she dabbed her teary eyes with a paper towel. Her other best friend, Lily, was there too, running a reassuring hand up and down her arm.

"Hey," said Max as she crossed the room, not exactly sure how to approach the situation.

Erica's red-rimmed eyes flickered up to see Max, and a new wave of silent sobs washed over her, shaking her shoulders and making her wonder if she would ever truly breathe again.

Max was quick to wrap her in a hug and Erica seemed more than grateful to have a shoulder to pour out her broken heart onto.

No one said anything. Mostly because no one really know what to say. They had no real wisdom to impart or solace to offer, and the silence allowed Max's mind to wander. She thought about how even the toughest girls have their breaking points. Hell, everyone did. Even Billy.

 _Billy_. He was Max's own breaking point. And that led her down a train of thought she did not want any part of. But still her mind wandered and suddenly had to ask, "Erica? He didn't hurt you, right? I mean… he didn't, like, hit you or anything?"

Erica shook her head no. Max rubbed small circles into her back.

"She doesn't want to talk about it," said Lily, her voice barely above a whisper.

The bell rang for the next class to begin, startling them all.

"If you guys need to get to class, I've got this," Max told the freshman girls.

Reagan and Lily gathered their things and said their see-you-laters and hope-you-feel-betters to Erica. She thanked them for being there before they went on their way. As the door swung closed behind them, the sound of Lucas' voice could be heard from the hall, though Max could not make out what he was saying.

She told Erica, "Lucas is outside, if you want to talk to him. Or I'm sure he could just drive you home."

Erica sniffled and pulled away from the embrace. "Can we go to your place? My mom's home and she's gonna want to talk about it…" Her words trailed off, but her eyes searched Max's desperately.

"Yeah. Yeah, we can go to my place."

Erica's lip curved into its best impersonation of a smile. She glanced to the mirror behind her. "I look like shit."

"Stop it." Max tugged at her hand and scooped her bag up from the ground. Erica gave one last dab at her eyes with the paper towel.

Max led them out of the bathroom to where Lucas waited in the hall. He sat leaning back against the far wall, but scrambled to his feet as soon as he saw the girls emerge. "Hey." He pulled his sister into a rare hug.

"This is weird," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"Yup," he agreed and released her.

He drove Erica and Max to the apartment the latter shared with Steve Harrington, but had to return to school for a test seventh period.

This left Erica and Max to make a girls day of it: inviting El over after her tutoring session and eating chocolate ice cream straight from the tub and making fun of movies they secretly loved like _Dirty Dancing_ and _Pretty In Pink_. Not once did anyone utter the name "Kyle" or the word "breakup." Slowly but surely, Erica remembered how breathe and smile and laugh. Just knowing that - even on her worst days, when she was feeling sad or mean or like the wold was ending - she had someone like Max on her side felt like the biggest relief of weight from her chest.

...

_MARCH 1999_

The coffee shop smelt strongly of dark roast and aged wood. Machines whirred behind the counter where Max and Erica picked up their drinks. They settled into iron chairs at a table by a large window where the filtered-in sunlight illuminated specks of dust in the air.

Erica made a face as Max took the first sip from her cup. "I could never drink my coffee black."

"Good thing you never have to," Max reminded her as the bitter drink began to warm her from the inside out.

"Seriously, though. I don't know how you do it."

Max shrugged. "I didn't start drinking it until I moved in with Steve. He always drank his black, so I did, too."

Erica's eyes lit up at the reminder of a person she had nearly forgotten. "How is he?"

"Steve? He's good. Still in Hawkins. Still working for his dad."

"Did he ever get married?"

"No." Max scoffed humorously. "No, girls never really liked that he lived with another girl, which I think is kind of bullshit. Plus, he's never really had the time to date. Especially now that he's, like, vice president of his whole company or something."

Erica's eyes narrowed in consideration. "I dunno... I think if Trevor lived with another girl I'd be a little jealous. I'm not sure if it'd stop me from dating him, though."

"Have you guys picked a date yet?" Max asked, speaking of Erica's fiancé.

"Next July. Either the fifteenth or the twenty-second, depending on which venue we decide on."

"That's exciting!"

"Yeah, and stressful." Erica rolled her eyes.

Max hummed in solidarity. "Do you have anything else picked out yet?"

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Erica said, brows raised.

"Okay..." Max's brow raised suspiciously as she leaned forward in her seat.

Erica's face melted into a giddy grin. She reached across the table and rest her hand on Max's, her new ring sparkling in the natural light. "Max -"

"Should I be scared?"

"Shut it and you'll find out." She paused for a moment, ensuring Max's undivided attention. " _Max..._ I want you to be my maid of honor."

Max blinked, taking a moment to fully feel the weight of the statement. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You want _me_? Out of all your friends and family and Trevor's sisters… Not even Nicky or Lily or Reagan?"

"Fuck Trevor's sisters." She tossed the idea away with back of her hand. "You're _my_ sister. I mean, really. You've been around since I was - what? Ten?"

"Erica -"

"I'm serious! You've stuck up for me, and you've always been there for me, and you put up with _Lucas_ , of all people, so I know you can put up with me when I turn into bridezilla. Plus, _I_ was literally _your_ maid of honor. I don't know why you're surprised about this…" Resting her elbow on the table, she held out her pinky. "Will you do it, Sinclair? _Please._ "

With a growing smile, Max locked her pinky with Erica's in a swear. They leaned in and kissed their thumbs. "Of course I will."

"You're the best!" said Erica. Her entire face lit up as if she were eleven-years-old again.

Max giggled. "I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I just want to give you all a quick heads up that I'm going on a trip to Alaska for a few weeks. I won't have my laptop with me, so I won't be able to get any chapters up until I come back in June! I hope you all have a great few weeks and I will be back before you know it.


	18. The Promise of Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life."  
> -Victor Hugo

_JUNE 1995_

On the day of Max's wedding, her mother was nowhere to be found.

"She'll come," Erica promised. "She'd be stupid not to."

Max didn't bother telling her that Susan was, in fact, stupid, and nothing like Tara. That Susan put on a good front but was truly a coward in the presence of her second husband and bent to his every whim - out of equal parts love and fear - and he had sworn years ago never to make the trip out to California again. Especially not to attend the wedding of a relationship he had never approved of. Thinking about it now, Max really couldn't figure out why she had thought they'd make an exception for her. But then again, maybe it was her mother's verbal promise to be there. Her intent on helping plan the thing. Her insistence to be the one to style her daughter's hair.

With a heart growing heavier by the minute, Max picked herself up off the desk chair and navigated the way across her old bedroom, which had been quickly overtaken by everything that was the opposite of her: blue chiffon dresses, shiny makeup compacts, and a growing pollution of perfume and hairspray.

One thing Max loved about her father was that, unlike some other parents after their kids moved out, he did not try to convert her bedroom into some sort of office or home gym. Rather, he left it untouched. Everything looked exactly the same as the last time she left for Indiana, as if she had instead decided to take a long weekend in Santa Cruz and would be returning home any day now. Because of this, sitting on the edge of her old bee flooded her with nostalgia, the weight of the landline feeling so natural in her hand. She dialled the number of Susan's house out of muscle memory and held the phone to her ear. She was sick of waiting and wondering. She had to know for sure.

With each ring, hope took roots in her chest. But just as she was beginning to let herself believe that no one was home to pick up the phone in Indiana, there was rustling on the other end of the line.

"Hargroves," Neil answered.

They weren't there.

They weren't coming.

She hung up immediately, not bothering to be gentle.

Her trio of bridesmaids were all watching, wide-eyed and concerned.

"She's really not coming?" Julie sounded almost as disappointed as Max felt.

"I have to talk to Lucas," Max decided.

"Isn't that bad luck?" asked El.

"Screw bad luck." Max had already received enough to last a lifetime. In the grand scheme of things, a little more wouldn't hurt too much.

Erica moved to follow Max out of the room, but Julie eased her back with a hand on her elbow. "Just let her go. They'll figure it out."

…

The boys were all camped out, for the time being, at JJ's house across the street. The atmosphere, Max couldn't help but notice, was entirely different. Frequent choruses of laughter floated in from the living room and beer bottles clanked in half-drunken celebration.

She hated to ruin it, but found herself standing in the entryway of the living room, anyway, where her boys were playfully arguing about the end of some movie.

Will noticed her first, and caught the eye of Lucas, who was then able to slip out without Dustin or Mike or even Steve making a big deal.

Immediately, he knew something was off. "What's wrong?" he asked, pulling her into the hall. His eyes were so deep and sincere.

Max swallowed hard. "Susan's not coming."

Lucas' brows peaked together before settling into a furrow. His mouth opened and closed, unsure of what exactly to say. He wasn't shocked. He wasn't confused. He wasn't angry like Max or disappointed like Julie. But Max could tell he was perplexed. It had thrown him off guard, and she could practically see the gears grinding in his mind as he tried to come up with the most logical and practical solution.

"I can go talk to her," he offered. "Maybe convince her -"

"They're not even in California. Didn't fly in last night, I guess."

"Fuck," he whispered to himself as the gears ground to a halt. He pulled her into a hug, and she sighed against his chest. "We can postpone it if you want. Get married another time -"

She shook her head. "We can't. I mean, your family flew out. JJ got goddamn ordained…" Against Max's ear, a short giggle rumbled through Lucas' chest. "If my mom wanted to be here," she finally admitted to herself, "then she'd be here."

…

Upon returning to her dad's house, Max just needed a minute alone to catch clear her head, so Erica and El and Julie cleared the room. But, unfortunately, they were all running on a schedule that day. Five minutes later, the latter came knocking. She didn't wait for Max's response, just let herself in and closed the door gently behind her.

"Hey," Julie greeted gently.

"Hey."

She carried a cloth bag with her, placed it on the desk, and began rifling through its contents. "When's the last time you wore makeup?"

"Never."

Julie laughed, but Max wasn't kidding. Not even Susan was allowed to touch her face with the stuff - much to her mother's dismay.

"I'll go light," Julie promised. Max shot her a look. "I will. I promise. But I can't say the same for Erica, so it's better if you just let me do it now."

Max managed to crack a smile at that. She took the seat at the desk and Julie got to work, first covering up her dark circles with creams then layering over powder. The silence that settled between them was kind of nice. There was a certain feeling of understanding to it that gave Max comfort.

Julie turned back to the makeup bag and pulled out a blush.

"Pink?" Max asked dreadfully.

"Peach," Julie quickly corrected, tilting Max's face to the side to get a better angle. "And don't give me that look. You've been so stressed, you look dead, Max - and, shit, I get it; I've been there. But this will at least give the _illusion_ that you're happy to be here."

"I _am_ happy to be here." She grinned to prove it, big and forced, hoping it would help lighten the mood.

But it didn't. Julie just looked even more solemn as she continued sweeping peach across Max's cheeks. Silence fell again between them for another half second before Julie reminded her, "My mom wasn't at my wedding, either."

"Yeah, but that's not the same," Max couldn't stop herself from saying. "My mom's not - Shit, Julie. Sorry."

"Don't be." The blush compact closed with a snap and Julie began searching through the bag once again. She avoided eye contact, and Max realized for the first time how little Julie ever spoke of her mother. "I mean, I guess you're right. You found out last minute while I knew years in advance, but I still felt like she should've been there, you know? Like everything was so happy, but it couldn't possibly have been perfect because there was still this big piece missing."

"I get that…" Max said, but by then Julie was mostly talking to herself.

She shook her head slightly, pulling the wand from a tube of mascara with a hollow _pop_. "And it's especially hard now, too, 'cause she's, like, the first person I'd want to tell I'm pregnant, but I can't." Her eyes went wide. Her hand flew up to her mouth. A grin spread across Max's face, big and genuine. "Fuck, I said that out loud."

"Are you serious? You're pregnant?"

"You can't tell _anyone_."

"Julie!"

"I'm serious, Max."

"Does Dustin know?"

" _No one_ knows."

"When did you find out?"

"Yesterday... So I still have to go to the doctor to make sure -"

" _Yesterday_? And you didn't tell _anyone_? Not even Dustin?"

Julie looked almost bashful. "I didn't want to ruin your wedding."

"You can't ruin my wedding. My mom beat you to that one. You're having a _baby_?"

"Yes," she said with a giggle. The air felt infinitely lighter, happier, more hopeful. "Now sit still. I'm not done."

Max sat back in the chair, the ghost of a smile still hanging on her lips, and trusted Julie's steady hand to apply mascara. When Julie stepped away just a bit to examine her work in progress, Max couldn't help but tell her, "You're gonna be great parents, you and Dustin."

A smile stretched across Julie's face, and as emotion flooded her eyes it was easy to see that she was scared of not being able to live up to exactly that. "I hope so."

A knock at the door interrupted the moment just before Tara Sinclair poked her head in. "I heard you need someone to do your hair."

Once Julie was done with the makeup, Mrs. Sinclair took her place.

"Do you know what you want it to look like?" Tara asked.

Max shrugged. "Whatever you think will look good."

So she began curling select strands and pinning a few pieces away from her face. Surely, she had heard about the predicament of Max's missing mother, but she didn't say anything about it. She didn't say anything at all, in fact, until she was finished. "You've always been so beautiful. And strong. Like a Sinclair."

Max was touched by the words but didn't bother looking in the mirror to confirm the first theory. She already felt out of place and not like herself with her makeup and hair done, and getting in the dress was only bound to make it worse.

In a perfect world, the mere promise of forever would have been enough for Lucas, and Max would not even be getting married. She did not need the ring or the party or the paper to prove that she was going to spend the rest of her life with him; not when all she has ever witnessed was divorce and heartbreak and ruin. But Lucas wanted something more official, and he had already done so much for her and she would do anything for him. And their moms just adored the idea of a beach wedding, and she wanted to make them happy.

But now that Susan was nowhere to be found and Tara was asking, "Are you ready?" the only thing she could think to do was nod.

…

Up until the moment she stood at the top of the aisle and saw the empty seat in the front row, a part of Max held onto hope that her mother would show up out of the blue, an apologetic smile plastered over her face, and Max would cuss her out about it later but she'd be there. She'd be there and they'd hug it out and everything would end up okay.

She was only half-aware that all eyes were on her, except for her father's, who followed her gaze. "It'll be a good day regardless, pumpkin."

With a shaky inhale, she began walking with her father down the aisle. Her sight settled on Lucas, waiting patiently, anxiously, just a few yards away. And lined up on either side of the altar, her best friends. Her favorite people in the whole world: Julie and El and Erica; JJ; Dustin and Mike and Will. "The best," she agreed.

And they grew closer. Until Lucas was standing right in front of her and her dad was planting one last kiss on the top of her head. "I love you, Maxine."

"I love you, too, Dad."

David Mayfield shook hands with Lucas before moving to take his seat, leaving just the two.

"Hey, Stalker," she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Hi, MadMax."

They stepped up to where JJ stood, grinning widely to himself, both out of happiness for his childhood best friend and out of smugness with himself for actually following through with his running joke of officiating her wedding. He gave her a knowing look before sliding easily, confidently, into his new role. "Please be seated," he requested. And so the small crowd sat. "Dearly beloved…"

Max bit her lip to keep from giggling and, locking eyes with Lucas, shook her head subtly. He grinned right back, wide and brilliant. And in that moment, with the waves of Little Cove crashing in the near distance, with the smell of sea salt hanging in the air, with the breeze knotting her hair and getting sand caught in the hem of her white dress, she knew that no matter what happened - no matter how much bad luck came their way - it would be okay. It would be okay because they had each other. Forever.

And even if she never thought she needed the ring or the party or the paper, she couldn't deny the amazing burst of warmth in her chest, the grin plastered to Lucas' face, or the tears in Tara's eyes when his last name was announced in place of her own.

Maybe she had always been destined to become a Sinclair. Maybe she had been part of their family all along. But she finally felt that sense of belonging in it. She felt it in Lucas' kiss, heard it in Erica's cheer, saw it in the way Arnell lead a standing ovation just before Lucas and Max walked the opposite way, hand in hand, down the aisle and their small stretch of sand.

The Sinclairs were a beautiful family who valued intelligence, bravery, and tradition. They stood unapologetic in the face of adversity. They lived passionately. They loved unconditionally. They were everything a family should be. Everything Max had never known. But, with open arms, they accepted her as one of their own. They welcomed her as family. Not just because they thought she was strong, or because she looked after Erica like a sister, or because she was simply the person Lucas had chosen to spend his life with, but because loyalty was what the Sinclairs held highest of all. They always had, and always would be, there for each other. No matter what.

…

Susan called the next morning. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it."

"Yeah. Me too." The words came out much harsher than Max had originally intended, but she didn't care. Ghosting on your only kid's wedding was pretty harsh, too.

"Oh, sweetheart, you know I wanted to be there. It's just… Neil made things difficult..."

"No shit," Max mumbled.

"So I left him. Last night. I left him."

For a moment, Max's lungs lost all function. Whatever number of excuses she had been expecting, that was certainly not one of them. "You what?"

"I finally did it," Susan said with a shaky sigh. "I left your step-father."

"Are you serious? Mom, that's great. That's… Are you safe? Where are you staying? Did he… did he hurt you?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm safe. I drove up to Sharon's house, and she said I can stay as long as I'd like. I'm okay, Maxine. We're going to be okay." And just like that, Susan began to sob. "Maxine, I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you." Suddenly, they weren't just talking about yesterday. An entire decade had wedged the gap between them, and Max didn't know were to begin bridging it. To begin healing. But this felt a lot like a place to start.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too, Mom." Her voice caught in her throat. Her heart felt heavy with just how much she realized she meant it. Sometimes neglect and abandonment, Max decided, was reciprocal. "Me too."

…

The honeymoon was the only thing Max had not been stressed about. Lucas had wanted it to be a surprise and had done a pretty good job of keeping it one. He tossed their suitcases into the trunk and slid into the driver's seat, leaning over to kiss Max quickly on the cheek before starting the engine. "Are you ready, Max Sinclair?"

She laughed lightly and rolled her eyes. His hand slid into hers. They began driving toward the sun. "Don't be stupid," she said, because at this point they both knew damn well that they would follow each other anywhere.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said I'd be back in June, and I'm so, so sorry that this has taken me so long. I had to take a break from writing while in Alaska, but when I came back I was not happy with anything I've been writing. It's gotten to the point now where I've just decided to put aside all my self-doubt and fear of judgement and just get something up for you guys. So, I'm sorry if this one isn't the greatest but I thank and love you all so much for bearing with me, and I hope you stick around while I try to work myself out of this slump!


	19. Cigarettes & Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."  
> -Sarah Williams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter touches on the topic of domestic abuse. Please mind your triggers.

_JUNE 1987_

The thing about Billy Hargrove was that sometimes he had a way of making Lucas feel like they were simultaneously enemies and allies. And while Lucas was sure he wasn't the only one of the party members Billy intended to make feel this way, it seemed he was the only one to notice. The only one Billy really got through to.

Like that time Neil took Susan on one of his business trips. Due to a fight Billy had with his father before they left, he was out of the house much more often than usual. He had disappeared for nearly three days straight, and Max decided to use the empty house to her advantage. She seemed to love the fact that, for once, she could have Lucas over. For once, she could pretend her life was normal. And she loved it even more when Will and Dustin called, looking for something to do.

The four of them were in her living room when Billy walked in the front door. The vibrant energy of the room came to an immediate halt. Billy's eyes hardened, glancing quickly over each of the boys before settling on Max. Lucas sat up straighter, inched closer toward her instinctively.

"Where have you been?" Max asked in cold curiosity. It was evident in her voice that she hadn't been too concerned.

"Good to see you, too, Maxine." He crossed the small room in just a few long strides. He kept his shoulders squared but his head down, a lame attempt to hide his black eye from the guys. Just before he disappeared down the hallway, he hesitated, then said to her, "I need your help again."

Max didn't say anything. Neither did Dustin or Will or Lucas. They all just listened to his heavy footsteps recede down the hallway, before they turned around and came back.

When he reappeared, he just stood and stared at Max, his eyes the closest Lucas had ever seen them to pleading. She just glared right back.

He glanced ever so quickly to Lucas, then back to Max. "Please," he spat. Another beat passed before he added, "I have a job interview."

She pulled herself to her feet and instructed him to sit at the kitchen table. Hesitantly, Billy eyed the boys. "Just do it."

This time, she was the one to disappear down the hall, and he took his place at the table, continuing to stare each of the boys down. No one said a word until Max's footsteps came back toward them.

"I guess they know, anyway," said Billy, and it sounded like an accusation, "all about what goes on in this house."

Max returned with a small pouch in her hand. "They don't know shit," she lied.

Silently, she began her attempt at covering up Billy's black eye with Susan's makeup, dabbing it in with the same kind of wedge-sponge Lucas had seen Erica use. Dustin and Will and Lucas didn't know what else to do except watch. "Sit still," she ordered on her third layer, jerking his chin straight.

"It hurts," he grumbled.

"No shit."

"Are you almost done?"

"It's really dark this time."

"You think I don't know that? I know that."

"Okay. Jeez…"

"Try putting orange on first," Will offered, tentatively. Dustin's head whipped to shoot him a warning glare.

Billy's eyes narrowed. "The hell did you just say?"

"It's basic color theory; orange will neutralize the blue. If you put something orange down first and then put the skin-tone stuff on top it should make it easier to cover."

Max and Billy sat on the thought for a moment, just looking at each other, before Max began digging through the bag again.

"I'm not fucking putting orange on my face, Max."

"I don't think you have another option right now. If it doesn't work we'll wash it off and try again. How's this?" The last part she asked Will as she rolled up a tube of lipstick. Coral.

"That should be good," he said. "Just start with a little..."

And he was right. For all intents and purposes, it worked. It was a bit obvious that Billy was wearing makeup, but at least the bruising was fully concealed.

Max started placing things very carefully back in her mother's bag. "Your lucky Susan didn't bring this with her."

Billy stood and, looking at Lucas, told his stepsister, _Thanks_. Only it came out as: "Just make sure you don't let Sinclair stay the night again. In case Neil decides to come back early tomorrow."

_You're welcome_ , Max said, only it came out as: "I'm not stupid." And that was the end of that. She didn't even question how Billy knew that Lucas was staying over, even though he'd been gone. He must've driven by at some point and seen his car. Or stopped by the house late one night after they'd fallen asleep...

Then a thought hit Lucas suddenly, and it seemed improbable, but also entirely possible: Was Billy staying way _because_ Lucas had been staying over?

And for once, suddenly, it almost felt like all of them were on the same side. Almost.

Until Lucas realized, just moments later, that it was Billy's inflictions that made it so Max knew how to cover up a different kind of bruising. Not Neil's. It made his stomach flip.

No one said anything at all. A silent vow hung in the air: none of them would ever speak of this again.

Billy eyed each of the boys, not angrily this time, and cocked an eyebrow when he landed on Will - which was as much of a thanks as the boy would ever get. Then, he left. The Camaro's engine revved as he peeled out of the driveway.

…

_NOVEMBER 1987_

A month had yet to pass since Max ran away to California. The party invited Lucas to hang out. They wanted to go to The Hawk and see _The Running Man -_ a movie Lucas had already seen on one of his many lone trips to the theater in the past few weeks. He didn't bother telling them that, though. Instead, he just said he had a lot of homework to do.

"C'mon, Lucas. It'll be fun," they pleaded, but he didn't budge.

Not until El said, "Please, Lucas? I never see you anymore."

Which was true. As much as Lucas isolated himself, he still saw Mike and Dustin and Will around Hawkins High. El, however, spent her days studying alone with her tutor. And it wasn't until she pointed it out, her doe eyes wide, that he started to feel bad about it.

So he agreed to go see the movie that Friday. Afterwards, they decided to get food at the diner—the same diner Max used to work at, though Lucas doubted anyone else had drawn the same connection.

And it was there, in a booth by the window, that they ate and talked and pretended everything felt normal again. That there wasn't someone missing. That everything had been exactly this way since '83.

But the harsh truth of their reality was impossible to ignore on their way out. As the diner door swung shut behind them, Billy's Camaro was peeling into the parking lot.

_"Shit,"_ Dustin cursed.

"Just get in the car," Lucas murmured to his friends, but none of them moved.

Billy slammed his car door shut behind him, lips curled into a cold impression of a smirk. It was the first time Lucas had seen him since Halloween. The first time he looked him in the eye knowing what he did, what he tried to do, how far he would have gone if something buried deep inside of him hadn't reminded him to stop.

The tops of Lucas' ears burned hot.

"Am I dreaming," Billy called across the small lot, "or is that you, Sinclair?"

Heading for his own vehicle, Lucas shoved his fists deep into his front pockets. But Billy's long strides allowed him to catch up quick. He planted himself in front of Lucas, blocking his path.

"We need to talk," Billy said, and risked a glance at the rest of the party, who hardly knew anything.

"No," said Lucas, "I don't think we do."

But Billy continued on nonetheless, his voice low. "I know you know where she is."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well, let's see… You and her both vanished at the exact same time. And now you're here and she's not. So tell me, man to man. Where's Maxine?"

"Why do you care all of a sudden?" For a brief flash of a moment, so quick Lucas could have imagined it, Billy looked taken aback. As if, somehow, someway, somewhere along the line, he actually had started caring for Max's wellbeing. But if that was the case, he sure as hell had an awful way of showing it. Just as quickly as it came, the expression vanished. His jaw fell slack, and his eyes went hard again. "When I talk to her I'll let her know she forgot to send you a postcard."

He tried to walk away, to go around Billy, but was stopped by a strong hand on his chest. "You think you're so fucking funny. Don't you, Sinclair?" His voice was full of gravel. A beat passed. Lucas was silent. "I'll give you five seconds to tell me where my sister is, or you're dead. You hear me?"

Looking Billy square in the eye, he challenged, "What are you gonna do? Strangle me?"

The words sent a ripple of tension through Billy's jaw. Set his eyes aflame. But Lucas wasn't done. "I'm not scared of you, Billy. You can't kill me."

A smirk stretched over Billy's face once more. "Wanna bet?"

"You and I both know that I know exactly where she is. And you don't have a single goddamn clue."

Billy just glared at Lucas, trying to look intimidating, but Lucas could no longer bring himself to fall for the coward's illusions. They didn't owe each other shit. They were not allies. Never had been and never would be.

Lucas shoved Billy off of him and started toward his car. Mike and Dustin and Will and El followed close behind, murmuring amongst themselves.

Billy just stood there, in the middle of the parking lot, chuckling madly to himself.

…

_MARCH 1989_

"You guys are still coming over later, right?" Mike asked the party, gathered in the parking lot before school.

Everyone said yeah. Said they were excited. Made loose plans about what games they should play or movies they should watch. Except Lucas.

His hand folded itself around the envelope in his front pocket, the paper already worn from hauling it around for a week, the black ink indenting the crisp white where it was addressed to him. "Shit. I totally forgot. I have this thing at James'..."

Mike and Dustin and Will and Max didn't bother trying to hide their dirty looks. Troy, James, and Scotty were still a sore subject, and the effect of bringing any of them up was always the same: Will would look to his shoes and study the way he shifted his weight back and forth, or kick loose gravel with his toe, or rub out a scuff on the linoleum. Mike would roll his eyes, and occasionally make a noise of distaste. A general look of disgust would flash across Max's face for a half second before she reminded herself better of it. Dustin would always offer commentary; something along the lines of "Fuck those guys," or, "Why do you still hang out with them, anyway?"

Presently, he offered a simple, "Ditch."

"I can't. I've flaked on them, like, the last five times, and I promised I'd be there." The lie formed itself easily in Lucas' mouth, though it offered no comfort to him or his friends.

Regardless, it was better than telling them the truth. The lie he could live with. The truth, on the other hand, he was not yet sure he could bear.

"Well if you wanna come over after..." Will said, "or just change your mind..."

"Yeah," said Lucas. "Yeah. I'll let you know."

They walked to class together, Max by Lucas' side, but he kept his hands deep in his pockets, his grip tight on the envelope.

At the end of the day, he left school quickly in an attempt to not run into anyone in the parking lot. After a long and lonely drive, the place appeared more easily than he had expected.

He checked his watch, then checked it again to be sure; he had some time to kill. He fiddled with the collar of his polo. He flipped through the stations on the radio. Rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Turned the radio off. Took the letter from his pocket and smoothed the envelope over the steering wheel. It read:

_March 16, 1989_

_Sinclair,_

_I know you don't owe me shit, but I need to talk to you._

_Visiting hours are 4-6p.m. Tuesdays and Thursdays at the Fairbanks County Correctional Facility._

_Hargrove_

He folded the paper back up, returned it to the envelope, and shoved it back where it belonged: out of sight. With a deep, shaky breath, he started his way inside.

Lucas hadn't been sure what to expect, but when he got inside he couldn't help but ask himself why. It was just a prison; nothing more, nothing less. A cold and bland kind of place; beige linoleum floors, beige concrete walls, and—once he signed in and cleared security—a whole lot of beige scrubs.

Following the instructions of a guard, he sat down in a grimy plastic seat at a laminate table and waited. And as he waited, he wondered what he was doing. He began to think maybe he should go back; that this had been a terrible idea. That he could drive back to Hawkins and knock on Mike's door. That Mrs. Wheeler would let him in and he could brush it all off and tell them James' fake thing got cancelled. And they'd be so, so happy to see him. He could show the letter to Max. He could stop hiding it from her—lying to her. To everyone. But before he even knew it, it was already too late.

Lucas had imagined that prison would've hardened Billy. That his muscles would be bigger, his glare sharper, his stance more intimidating. But the boy that walked out to meet him in the visitor's area just looked _tired_. His muscles hidden under oversized scrubs, his crystal eyes dull, his shoulders slumped like they were being weighed down by his handcuffs. But the most notable difference was that they had buzzed his head nearly to the scalp, making him seem nearly as lost and out of place as El was that night in '83. One look at him and it was obvious: prison wasn't made for pretty suburban boys like Billy Hargrove.

He sat across from Lucas. A guard uncuffed his hands.

"Wasn't sure you'd actually come."

"Yeah, well, here I am," said Lucas. "You look like shit."

"Screw you," he said. But his heart was not behind it. "Got a cigarette?"

Lucas cocked a brow at him.

"C'mon, Sinclair. What am I gonna do, run and tell Max on you? I know you hang out with those kids… Trent, or whatever his name is, and that fat one…"

With a sigh, Lucas pulled a half-empty carton from the pocket of his jacket and slid them across the table. Billy flipped the top and stuck one between his lips. "Got a lighter?" he asked, and Lucas produced one of those, too.

Billy inhaled, slow and deep, illuminating the embers as he slid the carton of cigarettes and the lighter back to Lucas.

"Keep 'em," he told Billy. "I'm trying to quit."

Billy scoffed, blowing smoke through his nose like a dragon. "Yeah, you and everyone else. Those kids you hung out with last year will get you started again, trust me. I can't keep the lighter…" Lucas pocketed the Zippo and leaned back in his seat. Billy continued on, elbows resting on the table. He scratched at the scruff on his jaw. "You still hang out with those guys? The ones that used to torture you?"

"Sometimes," was all Lucas gave. He got enough passive-aggressive shit about it from his friends, he did not need to get into the matter with Billy, too.

Billy took a drag from his cigarette. Then another. Then another.

"Why am I here, Billy?" Lucas finally asked. "Why'd you ask me to come?"

He was silent for a moment. He took another drag. "When my mom died, I was fourteen -"

_"Billy -"_

"I have a point, Sinclair. And I'm getting to it. Just shut up and listen. Please." He paused to make sure he was. Lucas crossed his arms over his chest.

"I was fourteen. You remember what it's like to be fourteen?"

If Lucas were to give Billy an honest answer, he'd tell him no. That he grew up to fast. That he had found out way more about the world, the universe, the multiverse, than anyone ever should when he was just twelve. He had met Max at thirteen. Met Billy at thirteen. He had never gotten to be fourteen. Not really. He had lived it, just not quite right. And far too much has happened since then. Far too much has changed. He said nothing.

"It's real young. You don't realize it then, but it is. You don't wanna believe you still need your mom, but you do. And I was mad at her that day. For what? Fuck if I remember. I just know I was mad and then I got home and she was gone. No apologies, no goodbyes." He sat back in his seat, took another pull of his cigarette, then leaned forward over the table, eyes locked with Lucas. "What I'm trying to say is that seventeen is real young, too."

Silence passed over them. Lucas waited for an elaboration that never came.

"That's it? I mean, I'm sorry about your mom and everything, but I know I didn't come all the way here for that."

"I wanted you to come because I need Max to know that I fucked up. I fucked up and -"

"Why tell me that, Billy? Don't you think it'd be better if you told her yourself?"

His eyebrows flew up his forehead. "Her dad blocks my damn calls!"

As soon as Lucas realized his mouth was hanging open, he snapped it shut. _He doesn't know._

"What?" Billy asked.

"Nothing." Lucas shook his head. "Nothing… she just doesn't live there anymore."

Sitting back in his chair, Billy considered this carefully. "She's back here then?"

Lucas said nothing.

"You gotta get her out of that house, Sinclair." Billy's voice had never been so earnest. "Susan, too, if you can."

"She's not at your house, either."

A deep crease settled between Billy's eyebrows. "Where the fuck is she then? She with you?"

"No. Not with me."

"But she's _here_?" he asked, pointing toward the ground with his cigarette. "In Indiana?"

"Why do you care? Does it fuck up your release?"

"Fucks up a lot of things, Sinclair. For all of us; not just me."

Once again, Lucas didn't say anything. They just sat in silence, with their thoughts, and Billy finished his cigarette.

"She's almost eighteen. Don't let Neil find her before then," was all he said before the guards came to cuff his hands in front of him and take him away, leaving Lucas alone again. No apologies. No goodbyes. No second glances. Not that they were expected. Or needed. That day, and every other day, Lucas realized, they were on the same side: the side against Neil Hargrove.

…

_SEPTEMBER 1994_

The night they got the call saying he was gone, she cried for hours. Not because she was full of sadness or regret or tragedy, but because she was overwhelmingly relieved. Relieved and so, so exhausted. The kind no amount of sleep would ever fix.

"It just feels over now," she explained, grasping at her heart, her lungs, and finding a moment to catch her breath.

"I know," he said. He felt it, too, paired in his chest with a deep and distant pang of pity. "And it is."


	20. The Best Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I feel like I know your smile, like I saw it when I was a child."  
> -Keaton Henson, The Best Today

_APRIL 1985_

"Tell me a secret," she whispered through the near-darkness. They sat, legs crossed, on a blanket in the grass, fingers clasped and thumbs flexed in war between them.

It was the first night of the year warm enough to sleep outside. Lucas and Max and Mike and Dustin and Will had all set up camp in the Wheeler's back yard. The latter three had long since fallen asleep, but for Max, still recovering from her first Midwestern winter, it was still too cold for comfort. So she and Lucas sat awake instead - she in two sweatshirts with a hood pulled up around her face, and he with the meager light of the moon and kitchen windows casting soft shadows across his features.

"I don't have any secrets."

Max rolled her eyes, tightened her grip around Lucas' fingers as her thumb dodged out of the way of his. "Everyone has secrets."

"Not me."

"C'mon, stalker. There isn't a single thing no one knows about you?"

"Nope." He assumed an offensive position, remaining strong while she tried to swoop her thumb around from the side, failing to take him down.

"Tell me a story, then." She relaxed her thumb as bait and he fell for it. He went to pin it, but she wiggled free and locked his down before he had the chance to react. "Yes! That's two outa three."

_"Shhhhh,"_ he hissed with a silent laugh, glancing over his shoulder to check that none of his friends had stirred. "Best three out of five?"

"No way," she lowered her voice again. "I'm quitting while I'm ahead."

He shook his head in defeat and gathered her hands. Rubbed the cold from her fingers between his palms.

"Tell me a story," she asked again.

"Why? I'm not good at stories."

"Yeah, you are. Plus, your voice drops, like, three full octaves when you're tired."

A smug smirk stretched across his face. "So you just like hearing me talk, is what you're saying?"

A warm flush bloomed across her cheeks, the kind that made her appreciative of the dim lighting. She tried to recede further back into her hood but was helpless without her hands. "Shut up."

His smirk broke into a full-out grin. "I'm getting a lot of mixed signals, Max."

Her eyes rolled again, and her hood fell back as she leaned in to kiss him once, then twice, if only for the sake of clearing things up. She rest her forehead against his and tucked the copper hair that fell into their faces behind her ears. "Tell me."

"What kind of story do you want?" he asked with the light of a smile in his voice.

She shrugged. Lay back against the blanket and looked to the stars. "Something good. What's your favorite memory? Or the best thing that ever happened to you?"

On his side, he lay next to her, propped up on his elbow. "This."

Slightly annoyed, her head shook from side to side. "See? Everyone has secrets."

"What do you mean?" he asked incredulously.

"I mean you're lying. And you don't want to tell me your best story."

There was full confidence behind Max's words, but they weren't quite right. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell her, it was that he didn't want to admit to her his new secret. His only secret: When she asked to hear his best memories, all the ones that came to mind she had lived with him. When she asked what the best thing that ever happened to him was, all he could think of was her.

_…_

_JULY 1985_

No one questioned what had put Hopper in such a good mood. No one wanted to ruin it. Mike and Dustin and Lucas and Will just piled into the back of the Blazer and started on off-roads toward the cabin.

It was the one time that year - the year she was hiding - that anyone other than Hop or Mike or Joyce got to see her. El. Or _Jane_ , as Hopper insisted, but the boys thought the name didn't fit her quite right and Hop was quick to give up on pushing it.

It was also the only day she got to leave the house.

She came outside in a hoodie so big it skimmed the hem of her shorts. With her hood up and her head down, she half-jogged to the car and slid into the passenger seat.

As Hop began driving away, she turned to her boys all squeezed together like sardines in the back, a closed-lipped smile stretching over her face, an eager gleam in her eyes. She looked good. Really good. Healthy and glowing and happy for once.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey," they said.

And she took a moment to study each of them, her eyes lingering on Will for just a moment longer than the rest.

"I'm Will," he said. "I know I didn't really get the chance to say _hi_ at the Snow Ball."

"I know," she smirked. Then, she sat forward in her seat, content to just listen to her boys talk and take in the vast, expansive world as it flew by.

The ride to the lake wasn't very long, just far enough for comfort. A few counties over, they pulled up to the secluded beach of rock and freshwater. El practically leapt out of the car, and her boys did, too.

Hugging each of them, her hood came off. Her hair had grown down to her chin.

"Mental," Dustin grinned, pulling one of her curls straight and watching it bounce back into place.

It was a clear day. The sun made glitter of the water. They spent the whole afternoon there, skipping rocks and sipping on Kool-Aid and soaking in summer air. And it was admittedly a strange feeling, having Eleven around with no impending threats in the way.

At one point, as the sun began to sink down the other side of the sky and they'd gotten comfy sitting around a picnic blanket, El broke off from the main conversation to ask Lucas, "You like that girl? Max?" A beat passed. She'd been successful in catching him off guard. "Mike told me a lot about her."

"Yeah," he said. Then added playfully, "But I know _you_ don't."

"I meant as more than a friend."

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't seen her in so long, or that she had saved his life on multiple occasions, or that she just had this understanding way about her, but in that moment Lucas felt like he could tell El anything. "Yeah. I like her a lot."

"Is she your girlfriend now?" she asked with a knowing gleam in her honey eyes.

Lucas grinned. "Your vocabulary's improved."

"There's not much to do except read and watch TV," she shrugged. It made Lucas laugh, but she hadn't said it to be funny. "Is that a yes?

"Yes, El," he told her. "Max is my girlfriend now."

"She's pretty," she said softly, looking down to her hands in her lap.

And only then could Lucas sense the solemn envy. The wish to so desperately be the normal girl on the outside, who hung out with the party and grew her hair long had much more to do than just read and watch television. So he nudged her shoulder with his own and did what he could to get her laughing again. Her hair would continue to grow and her vocabulary would continue to improve and Mike would continue to tell her she's pretty, too. Then, before she even knew it, she'd be on the outside with them, and in Max, she'd find a great friend. Lucas was certain of it.

_…_

_OCTOBER 1986_

They were probably way too old to be trick-or-treating and were all too quick to use the fact that El had never been as an excuse, but it was no secret that everyone in the party loved Halloween. They all longed for one last year to make it count. One last year of collecting candy and running through the streets. Of playing pranks and dressing up as someone new. (This year, after their new-found obsession with both suspected serial killer documentaries and saving money by raiding thrift stores and their parents' closets, Max and Lucas had chosen to go as Bonnie and Clyde.)

All night the party ran around like kids, laughing loud and running from neighborhood to neighborhood and collating as much candy as they could get their hands on.

When the streets grew empty and their pillowcases grew heavy, they headed back to the Wheeler's with every intention to raid Ted and Karen's liquor cabinet and watch all three _Halloween_ movies, but they ended up binging on chocolate to _It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ instead.

It was well past midnight by the time Lucas offered to walk Max back home, and they were both so tired that they decided to stop by his house and hop on his bike. However, they were not quite tired enough to head straight to Old Cherry Road. Lucas decided to take a detour off Main Street. A detour Max trusted Lucas enough not to question until they'd hopped off the bike, made their way around to the back of the arcade by the dumpsters, and Lucas began climbing the fire ladder up the side of the building.

"Where the hell are you going, psycho?" she hissed up at him through the dim orange glow of nearby streetlights.

"Just trust me," he assured, so she rolled her eyes and followed him up the rickety ladder to the rooftop, where the stars felt close enough to reach out and grab onto.

That night, as they sat with their legs dangling off the edge of the building and the cold of the concrete seeping in through the tweed of their trousers, the world was so still and the sky was so clear and the stars were so bright that Lucas felt like he was looking at the whole universe. As Max admired all there was to see, he and supposed he really was.

A smile formed first in her eyes before spreading over her face when she caught him looking. The kind of smile that made it seem like they shared some sort of secret. Like it was them against the world, and they had dressed for the occasion. Lucas wanted to freeze the moment. Make it last. Make them this young and in love and serene forever.

"Where do you think we'll be a year from now?" she asked, her voice soft and curious, her arms wrapped tight around her torso in defense against the chill, even with Lucas' suit jacket draped over her shoulders. She inched closer for warmth, and he wrapped an arm around her.

"I don't know," he told her, not wanting to think about anything other than the present. Than her. Than the whole universe laid out before them. "Let's just be here."

A few blocks down, a crowd of teenaged kids shouted and laughed and whooped in some jubilation entirely of their own, but when Lucas kissed Max he could have sworn the cheers were for them.

 


	21. String Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come to me, all you who are weary and heavily burdened, and I will give you rest."  
> -Matthew 11:28

_DECEMBER 1988_

Snowflakes disintegrated the moment they hit the windshield. The town's Christmas lights made impressionist art in the water they left behind before the wipers had the chance to push it all away, offering a clean canvas. She watched them float down from the sky, still as mesmerized as the first time she ever saw them. She almost missed the snow last year, when she was away. Almost. Though she'd never admit it out loud. In her mind, vast expanses of dusted white and winter-clung hair had replaced stretches of sand and salty air when she thought of the word _home._

The hot chocolate he brought her was still to warm to drink, and instead took up the temporary position of warming her fingers. Even with the car's heat on full blast, they were freezing.

Softly from the stereo came Morrissey:

_Dear inspector, don't you know? / Don't you care? / Don't you know about love?_

He drove with one hand draped over the steering wheel. The other found her knee to rest on. She took it in her own, and they let their fingers fall together.

_…_

_DECEMBER 1989_

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Trying to make yourself look nice for him."

She shot Dustin one of her looks.

"Seriously, Max. It's unbecoming."

She scoffed. _"Unbecoming?"_

"It's not like you haven't seen him at all this semester," he said, which was true.

Lucas only lived an hour away—though with a lead foot and clear traffic, Max's personal best was forty-six minutes—at the university in Bloomington where his father taught. It was close enough for him to spend occasional weekends at home, or for them to meet at the pizza place halfway, but that wasn't the same as seeing each other damn near every day like they had grown accustomed to.

She frowned and let her hands drop from her hair.

"Just put a hat on and let's go," insisted Dustin. "It's freezing outside, anyway."

So she stole one of Steve's ski caps from the coat closet—its fabric soft and blue colors faded from winters of weather and wear—and tugged it over her head as they made their way out to Dustin's car.

The majority of the ride was spent flipping through the radio trying to find a decent song, but they never seemed to agree on any. When she landed on a Christmas station, Dustin grabbed her hand and pried it away from the dial. _Winter Wonderland_ filled the air between them.

"God no, Dustin," she begged, trying to pull her hand away from his grip. "Anything but this." After a few holiday seasons working at the diner, she had far exceeded her maximum tolerance for Christmas music.

"You don't appreciate the spirit, Max." Dustin began singing along.

Max tried not to scream. "I appreciate it plenty."

He released her to turn up the volume. She used her newly freed hand to turn the radio off, but not even that could stop Dustin from singing.

 _"_ _Ugh,"_ she groaned, collapsing back in her seat.

Dustin threw his head back laughing, and there was a moment then that it felt surreal for them to be on their way to see their friends. For a while now, it had just been the two of them. Together. All the time.

But no matter how sick of each other they got sometimes, they were the only ones left. So they would carpool to their community college the next town over, where they took classes together and copied each other's notes. They were constantly at each other's places, watching movies and raiding fridges and making themselves feel at home. Sometimes Steve would join them. Other times it would be Dustin's girlfriend, Julie. Or every so often Lucas would come home. But mostly, it was just the two of them. Max and Dustin, Dustin and Max. Even when if they were working, they were together; Dustin would take Julie out to the diner, or Max would study at her favorite table in the library. Even when they did get annoyed with each other, deep down they never minded too much because they both silently understood how lonely felt to be left behind.

They knew their friends had to go away to college, that it was just a part of life, but that didn't stop it from stinging any less. At least at first.

By now, it was just what they had grown used to. It was comfortable for them. Now, with everyone back for Christmas break, Max was worried the rest of the party will have changed too much. That things will be different, even just slightly. That they could never get back exactly what they used to have.

When they pulled into the Wheeler's driveway, the curtain shifted in the living room window. Moments later, El came sprinting down the front steps, her jeans bunched up around her ankles from hastily stuffing her feet into boots, her sweater knit thick but not nearly enough to keep her warm without a coat, which she hadn't bothered to throw on. She enveloped them both in one big hug. "I missed you," she said, and they had missed her, too.

"How's Chicago?" asked Dustin.

"Good. Really good," El said, leading the way inside.

"And Kali?" asked Max.

"She's good, too."

El had chosen not to go to college. Instead, she left for Chicago saying she and Kali were doing research. _"About the others,"_ was the most Max had gotten from her. ( _"Others… like you?"_ Max had pressed. El only smirked, but there was a knowing gleam in her eye that for Max was as good as confirmed.) That and a collect call from Canada—God knows what she was doing there—to check in when she hadn't come home for Thanksgiving.

In the threshold, they all kicked off their boots and shed their coats. In the kitchen, Holly was helping Karen bake gingerbread, filling the whole house with the scent of Christmas. In the living room, Nancy and Will worked at a tangled set of string lights with puzzled expressions, and Ted had enlisted the help of Mike and Jonathan to get the tree into its base.

Will quickly abandoned the project to greet his friends. He hadn't been home for Thanksgiving, either, instead meeting his family at Jonathan's place in New York, and it was so good to finally see him again.

"When did you guys get in?" Max asked him, mid-hug.

"Last night."

From across the room, Mike corrected, "Early this morning."

 _"_ _Michael_ ," Ted huffed from under the tree.

"Sorry." He returned his attention back to the task at hand.

Max smirked at a beaming Will, but her eyes, as always, seemed to start instinctively scanning for Lucas.

"He's not here yet," Will said in a low voice, knowing.

Nancy groaned. "These lights are _impossible_."

"Leave them," Jonathan suggests with a sarcastic smirk. "My mom never puts any up, and our house always looks fine."

Once they had the tree was secured in its base, Mike ushered his friends down to the basement at the first opportunity.

Everything was exactly as they had last left it, Max was relieved to find. The blanket fort still up in the corner, a game of Monopoly still abandoned on the table, Dustin's hat still hung from the banister.

"I've been looking all over for this!" He exclaimed, promptly snatching it back and fitting it over his head.

Max, already collapsed on the couch next to Will—who rest his head on her shoulder—arched her brow at Dustin. "I thought we all agreed you'd retire that thing."

"Doesn't diminish its sentimental value." Dustin beelined for their small stash of alcohol. "Should we toast?"

"We should wait for Lucas," Mike said to him, but looked at Max.

"When's he supposed to come?" Will asked.

El checked her watch. "An hour ago, maybe."

Dustin scoffed and pulled out the rum. "Poor bastard's probably stuck in traffic. Everyone's trying to go home this weekend."

"Yeah, tell me about it," said Will. "The airport was _insane_."

"And it's Boston, so no one's ever nice," Mike added.

El shook her head. " _Please._ I went to visit you, Mike, and the people there weren't nearly as bad as New York City."

Will nodded vehemently in agreement.

No one asked El what she was doing in New York City. They just went off on long talks about the new lives they had formed over the past few months. Dustin caught Max's eye and smiled. It felt so, so good to have all of their friends back.

Well, almost all of them.

Lucas showed up an hour and a half later with an apologetic smile and a tray of his mom's brownies.

They all leapt to greet him, with the exception of Max, who sat forward in her seat and waited her turn.

When he finally, finally sat down beside her, he pressed his cold lips to her cheek. When he tried to cup her face in his hand, she flinched away instinctively. "Jesus, Lucas, your hands are _freezing._ "

"You're fine," he said, and took her by the cheeks and kissed her on the lips.

She took his hands in her lap and the rubbed his cold fingers between her palms like he had for her so many times before. He watched her, eyes aglow with adoration.

"What?" she asked when she caught him staring.

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing," she pressed.

He smiled her favorite smile. "I'm just happy to be home."

"I'll drink to that," Dustin said. So they did.

…

_DECEMBER 1992_

Will and Mike hadn't been wrong. Airports around the holidays were insane. San Fransisco International was no exception.

They had tried their best to be festive, wrapping railings in tinsel and propping up a few Christmas trees in wide open areas. But people seemed to forget how to move around them. Passengers took their sweet time strolling down the linoleum walkways, their carry-ons rolling lazily behind them. Children grew loud and fussy with waiting and the terminal's small coffee shop struggled to keep up with their line.

If there was anything Max was good at, it was being fast, assertive, and small. She shoved her way through the crowds, dragging Lucas along with her, so focused on the task at hand that she nearly bypassed their gate.

When they boarded the plane and folded themselves into their economy seats, Lucas finally let the exhaustion of the long weekend wash over him. He could have passed out then and there if it weren't for the stiff discomfort of the seats and the harsh lighting of the cabin keeping him awake.

The lights dimmed before the plane took off, and the slight rock of minimal turbulence was almost nice. Almost. He rest his head on Max's shoulder, found comfort in her honey-scented shampoo.

"Where are you two headed?" asked the older lady occupying their row's aisle seat. She had a kind face and a valley twang.

Max said simply, "Home."

…

_DECEMBER 1994_

If she was going to be stuck at Lucas' office Christmas party, the least she could do was get a little drunk. She told him she'd be right back then beelined for the drink table. Alone. Big mistake.

"Your hair is _gorgeous_ ," gasped a woman's voice beside her as Max popped the caps of two beers—the least Lucas could do was get a little drunk with her. "Is that your natural color?"

With a slow breath and the best polite smile she could muster, Max turned toward her new admirer. "Yes."

"You're kidding." The woman grinned, teeth big and white, her own hair a mousy brown, pulled back in a low bun. If she was at the party last year, or even the year before, Max could not recall.

In all likelihood, she was probably a sweet lady—couldn't have been much older than Susan, who Max made a mental note to call for once—but it was the holidays. Lucas and Max should be with their friends or families. Not sipping eggnog in itchy sweaters with people they only pretend to like.

"Nope. Same color as my mother's." Max forced a polite laugh, but it didn't come out quite right. The lady didn't seem to notice.

"How lovely! It suits you."

Max considered the bright side: she wasn't touching it. A lot of people make that mistake. "Thank you." She glanced across the room toward Lucas, now chatting with one of his work buddies. "I better get back to—"

"I'm Deborah, by the way. Lana's new secretary. Well not _new_ new, I've been here since August. Anyway, it's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Max said in her best polite voice. The one she used often back in her waitressing days. "I'm Max. I'm—"

"Lucas' girlfriend," Deborah finished for her. Then, with a smile like she knew all about the two of them, "He's quite taken with you. Talks about you _all_ the time."

"Fiancé, actually," she corrected, if only to get some of the irrational spite out of her system.

"Oh!" Deborah's eyes lit up and began a search for the ring. Instinctively, Max curled the beer she held with her left hand in toward her chest.

A man's deep chuckle sounded behind her. "Making new friends, Deb?"

Max turned and found Peter, Lucas' boss, grinning at them. He scratched the side of his balding head.

"I never knew Lucas was getting married," Deborah said like she couldn't believe it.

"He's been engaged for a while now," he said. Then to Max, "At least a year, right?"

Max nodded. Close enough. She gestured toward Lucas again with her right beer and opened her mouth to make a second attempt at escape.

Then Deborah said, "A _year_ , how exciting. How long were you together before?"

And that was when Max knew she wasn't getting out of there anytime soon. Because when you're twenty-three, and you tell someone you've been with your boyfriend—now fiancé—for, "Ten years," you unwillingly invite a never-ending series of rapid-fire questions, no matter how much annoyance you allow to seep into your voice.

Deborah's mouth hung open slightly.

"Wow," Peter chuckled. " _Ten years._ I never would've guessed that; you guys are so young."

Max took a real long sip of her right beer and begged Lucas with her mind to look at her. If there was ever a time to have an Eleven-type superpower, it would be now, and she would pick telekinesis. Which she apparently already had, because it worked.

Lucas looked over, Deborah and Peter continuing to talk from either side of Max about her relationship, and Max flashed him pleading eyes.

He laughed. Shook his head. Shook hands with his friend and made his way over. Max couldn't help her grin.

"Lucas!" Deborah greeted. "I had no idea you were engaged. Congratulations."

"Thank you," he said. Max passed him her left beer. Drained the rest of her own. Lucas pursed his lips in suppressed laughter.

"When's the wedding?"

"June," he said. Then, placing his new drink on the nearest surface, "I really hate to interrupt, but we have to go home and let the dog out, Max."

How could she ever love anyone else? “Right. The dog."

Peter's forehead wrinkled. "I didn't know you had a dog."

"My sister's dog," Lucas lied smoothly. "We're watching him for the week."

"How sweet," said Deborah.

"We have to let him out," said Max. Finally, she got her swift escape. "Bye, Peter. Nice to meet you, Deborah. Merry Christmas."

Lucas grabbed onto her hand, slowing her pace before she damn near sprinted out of there.

When they got in the car, Lucas was laughing to himself.

"What?" she asked, wanting to be in on whatever joke he had made up in his head.

"They just think you're sweet, Max."

She shot him one of her looks. If there was anything Max was not, it was _sweet._

He leaned over, kissed her on the cheek to get her smiling again. It worked. "Thanks for coming."

"Whatever," she said, feeling more lighthearted.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

He started the engine. She cranked the heat. They drove the long way back, admiring all the lights and decorations on the way.

He drove with one hand draped over the steering wheel, the other rested on her knee.

Softly from the stereo came Morrissey:

_You wonder how / We've stayed alive 'til now / We'll let you know, we'll let you know_

At home, they shed their heavy layers and curled up under a blanket on the couch to marathon cable Christmas movies. Halfway through _Home Alone 2_ , Max fell asleep with her head on Lucas' lap and his fingers toying with her hair.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't want to make this note too long or sad or personal, but my friend (coincidentally the one who first convinced me to watch Stranger Things) passed away unexpectedly very recently. Her name is Taylor. She was only 21. Over the holidays please, please take the time to tell your loved ones how much they mean to you. Have fun and make new memories to cherish forever, because that's what the season's about. Because life is too short not to.
> 
> Thank you to all of you who read and review my stories. I love writing and it means the world to me that you enjoy reading it. I am beyond grateful for all of you. Hope you have a safe and happy holiday season!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I have no rights to the songs "Late Night, Maudlin Street" and "We'll Let You Know" by Morrissey, nor "Winter Wonderland" originally by Richard B. Smith.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! Here's a little series I have going on over on FanFiction that I thought I'd upload here, too. It's (obviously) going to be following two of my all time favorites, Lucas and Max. I love their blossoming relationship because I think they are exactly what they need for each other; Lucas is intelligent, responsible, loyal and makes Max feel safe and included, while Max tries to be tough as nails but she's genuinely terrified of Billy and softens around Lucas. I just adore them!
> 
> This will be a life spanning collection of one shots about the pair, which will jump around their timeline. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you stick around and enjoy!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I am not secretly a Duffer Brother. In no way am I affiliated with Netflix or Stranger Things.


End file.
